Fairytales of a Papa Bear
by ColHogan
Summary: AKA: HotchRocks. A Criminal Minds/Hogan's Heroes Crossover. FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner aka 'Hotch,' finds several journals written by his late grandfather. What he discovers is that his grandfather was a POW in Stalag 13. But not just an ordinary POW, but a member of a select group of POWs known as Hogan's Heroes. Profiler Award Winner for Best Crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a very different Criminal Minds story from what I am use to writing and you are used to reading. It is a Criminal Minds/Hogan's Heroes crossover. My pen-name for Hogan's Heroes is ColHogan, and HotchRocks for Criminal Minds. I will do my best to be truthful to both shows, and will write a backstory for those who aren't familiar with Hogan's Heroes. I hope my followers from both fandoms will enjoy. The flashbacks are mainly told by Aaron Hotchner's grandfather in story form. Profiler Award Winner for Best Crossover.  
**

 **Fairytales of a Papa Bear**

 **Chapter 1**

After securing her nephew in his car seat, Jessica opened the driver's side door, paused, and gazed into her brother-in-law's dark brown eyes. She understood from his expression how he felt at this moment. No words needed to be spoken.

"Aaron, I'll make sure you and Jack can Skype as often as possible. And feel free to call if you want. You know mom and dad would love to hear from you as will Jack."

Jack leaned over so he could see his father, a toothy smile on his young face, and waved at his dad.

"Bye, daddy!" he shouted. "I'll miss you. You sure you can't come with us?"

Hotch leaned over and mustered his happiest smile which allowed his dimples to show. He waved at his son. "Bye, buddy! I'm going to miss you, too. I wish I could come along, but daddy has to work. You be good for grandpa and grandma, and do what they tell you. Okay?"

"I will."

Jessica got in behind the wheel and closed her car door. As she started the car, she leaned over and waved to Hotch. "Bye, Aaron. I'll call you once we arrive so you'll know we arrived safely."

Hotch waved, then watched the car pull away, and stayed until the car disappeared from view. He let out a deep breath, ran a hand over his thick black hair, walked back inside his apartment building, and entered a waiting elevator. He pressed the up button and stuffed both hands in the pockets of his jeans as the elevator continued its upward ascent. Despite his smile, a sadness could be seen in his eyes as his six-year-old son, Jack, had been buckled into his car seat by his aunt Jessica. Since the murder of his ex-wife, Haley, two years ago, the only connection Hotch had to her was his son. But given the frequency his job required him to travel, he regrettably spent many days and nights away from home and Jack, and left the boy with Jessica. So when he could be home, there was nothing he enjoyed more than spending time with his son.

Now that Jack was gone for the entire summer, he wondered what he was going to do to occupy himself on his days off from work. It was then he recalled the boxes in his bedroom his mother had sent him shortly after his father's death years ago. He had never bothered to unpack or even go through any of them, not even after his mother had passed away four years ago. He had simply stuck them in a corner of his bedroom and left them untouched.

He hadn't wanted any reminders of his father; in fact, he hated the man. Daniel Hotchner, a prominent attorney, not only drank to excess, but _also_ verbally and physically abusive to his wife and young Aaron. And after Sean had been born, Aaron was determined to not allow his father to abuse Sean. So to try and protect his baby brother, young Aaron took the blame for all of Sean's misbehavior, while trying to protect their mother as well. Everybody in town despised Daniel Hotchner but too afraid to stand up to him. Hotch had never wanted Sean to suffer as he and their mother suffered. Aaron had been secretly delighted when his father passed away from a massive heart attack at forty-seven. (1)

When the elevator doors hissed open at the eighth floor, Hotch got out, and walked to his apartment, removing his keys from his pocket. He unlocked his front door, went inside, and entered his bedroom. Maybe it was time to go through those boxes his mother had sent, and get rid of them once and for all. He gazed at the far corner of the room near the closet in which hung his suits, and stared at the five boxes stacked one on top of the other. He realized watching them wasn't going to get rid of them. So he picked up the top box which was slightly smaller than the others, and carried it to his bed.

After he sat the box on his bed, Hotch sat beside it and opened it. He hesitated while looking at the contents. Inside he found ten journals which he found strange. He knew his father had never kept journals much less saved them. So Aaron found himself naturally curious as to who they belonged to, and what was written in them.

With a weary sigh, he picked up the top one. Written on the plain cover in block letters was 'FAIRYTALES OF A PAPA BEAR.' Near the bottom was printed volume one. But the handwriting wasn't that of his father, but of his grandfather, Aaron Daniel Hotchner, after whom he had been named. Hotch smiled recalling his grandfather who, unfortunately, had passed away from cancer when Hotch was ten years-of-age. He didn't remember much about his grandfather other than the man was loving and compassionate, and didn't drink; the complete opposite of his father.

The Hotchner boys loved their grandfather, and enjoyed spending time with him whenever possible. Hotch recalled how the man would often take the boys on outings to the park, the movies, played games with them, and when possible, take them to dinner and camping. He showed his grandsons all the love they never got from their father. Also, he would often regale his grandsons with made up stories and hold them spellbound for hours. The title on the journal now held in his hands, was probably one of his grandfather's stories that the man had put in writing for the boys. Especially after his father barred them from ever seeing or speaking to the man again.

He wondered when and why his father had developed such animosity towards his own father and prohibited his sons from any further contact with the man. The only thing he could figure even at a young age, is that his father and grandfather argued often. Argued over the man's yelling at Sean, and the beatings of his wife and Aaron. Also, Daniel Hotchner suspected Aaron discussed what happened at home with his grandfather and he couldn't allow that.

So, the only way Daniel Hotchner made sure his sons kept their mouths shut was to keep his father and grandsons apart. To guarantee that, he prohibited both boys from having any further contact at all with their grandfather again. He made sure both boys and his wife understood that to disobey would have harsh repercussions.

Aaron refused to be deterred. Often while on his way home after school, he would stop by his grandfather's house and visit for an hour or so. Sometimes he even brought Sean with him. But that came to an abrupt end one day when he got home to find his father drunk, and waiting for him. He gripped his thick leather belt in one hand, and a look of rage on his face.

"Dad? What's wrong?" The boy had an idea what was wrong and what was coming.

"You _know_ what's wrong, you lying deceitful little bastard!" Daniel slurred his words. "You've been seeing him behind my back! What have you been telling him?!" The more he spoke the more enraged he became. His hands literally shook. "I warned you what would happen if you disobeyed me!"

"But I haven't been…."

" _Liar! I saw you!"_

Aaron was about to respond, thought better of it, and kept his mouth shut instead.

Daniel roughly seized his son by the front of his shirt and yanked him forward until he landed face down on the floor. At the same time, he swung the belt, its buckle hanging from one end. The blows fell across the boy's back and legs repeatedly, each blow stinging more and more. But Aaron refused to cry or beg him to stop which enraged his father even more. The beating intensified until blood was shed as the buckle cut into the boy's back and legs.

After several minutes, Daniel tired and threw the belt on the floor, and started to exit the room leaving his eldest son lying on the floor barely conscious. But not before he viciously kicked his son's rib area. When the tirade ended and things quieted, Aaron's mother approached the living room and stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The moment she noticed her son trying to push himself up off the floor, she ran into the living room and knelt by his side. She ran her hand lovingly through his dark hair. Hearing whimpers, both looked upward to see Sean at the top of the stairs crying; apparently terrified over what both were certain the young boy had seen.

"Go back to your room, Sean," Aaron hissed trying to keep the pain out of his voice. "I'm okay. Really." The little boy didn't move at first.

"Sean, do as your brother says," the boys' mother said, fearful that her husband might return and take his anger out on Sean. This time the little boy ran to his bedroom and they both heard the door slam. Sandra then turned her attention to her injured son. "Aaron…" she cried with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm okay, mom," Aaron hissed in obvious pain. He placed a hand over his injured rib area, suspecting one of his ribs was either cracked or broken. His entire body hurt, but it hurt more to see his mother so upset, and that Sean had seen his father's anger. Something that Aaron never wanted his younger brother to ever see. "Listen to me, mom. I'm okay. And I'm sorry you heard what you did. But please don't confront dad. He's in a nasty mood and might really hurt you. I'm afraid what he might do to you if you do. Do you understand me? You can't confront him."

"But, Aaron…."

"Promise me, mom."

Everything in Susan Hotchner cried out for her to confront her husband, but her fear of retaliation stopped her, _especially_ when her husband was this way. Instead, she helped her son to his knees. Aaron grimaced with every movement as his body protested.

"I won't confront your father, Aaron, if that's what you want. But at least let me get you to the hospital. You need to see a doctor. It's possible you might have a broken rib."

In agreement, Aaron let his mother help him to his feet.

* * *

Aaron sighed as he closed his eyes at the memory. His welts and bruises healed with time, but the cracked ribs took longer. When he opened his eyes again, they were moist as it hurt to recall the memories. Still, he owed it to his grandfather to see what was in the journals. Also, as his grandfather was a story teller, maybe the stories he had written about were something Aaron could share with Jack. But first he'd have to read them himself.

Hotch let out a deep breath as he opened the cover, and was surprised to find a black and white photo inside the journal.

"What the…" he stated picking up the photo to get a closer look at it. The photo was of six men. Hotch at once recognized his grandfather despite the uniform shirt with the insignia of a Staff Sergeant on the sleeve. One man wore a dark leather jacket and a crush cap. The insignia on his shirt collar indicated he was an American Colonel. Another was a black man with a light-colored jacket bearing the same insignia as his grandfather. The fourth man was on the thin side, wearing a worn leather jacket and a worn leather cap with what looked like wool ear-flaps turned upward. He had no idea what his rank was. Of the other two, one wore a British uniform from the insignia on his arm, possibly a corporal. And finally, the last man was smaller in stature than the others. He wore a beret and a scarf around his neck. The beret said the man was French. But his rank was also unknown. Hotch looked at the back of the photo and spotted the inscription of 'Stalag 13, 1944.' There was no other information.

W _ho are these people with granddad?_ Hotch thought. He spent a few more seconds studying the people in the photo before he laid it beside him on the bed. He made a mental note to have his technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, run a check on the men in the photo. She could find out anything no matter how deeply hidden. Satisfied, Hotch opened the journal and proceeded to read.

* * *

 _ **(May, 1944):**_

Colonel Robert Hogan, Senior POW officer, sat at the table in the common room of Barracks Two drinking coffee. It was another dull day at Stalag 13. Things had been quiet lately on London's end for the last week, and everybody was beginning to feel bored. The American officer watched three of his men playing poker; Carter, Newkirk, and LeBeau. He chuckled suspecting Newkirk was using his marked deck of cards. (2)

After a few minutes, Newkirk rolled his eyes watching his good friend, Andrew Carter, take too long to decide which cards to discard. "C'mon, Andrew," Newkirk raised his voice, his British brogue strong. "You're holdin' up the ruddy game."

"Hold your horses, will ya?" Carter retorted. "I'm thinkin'."

Newkirk let out an exasperated sigh. "Blimey," he complained. "Don't think, Andrew. The ruddy war won't last that bleedin' long."

"Fine. Here." Carter threw out a card which Newkirk promptly picked up, then lay down what was in his hands.

"Gin."

LeBeau and Carter both threw down their cards in disgust while Hogan chuckled and sipped his coffee.

"Thank you, gentlemen," the Englander replied with a grin as he gathered up the discarded playing cards and reshuffled them. "Who's up for another game, then?"

"No way, Jose," Carter replied getting up from the table.

"How 'bout you, LeBeau?" Newkirk asked with a smirk, still shuffling.

"Forget it," the French Corporal sneered as he got to his feet and sat down on the same bunk next to Carter.

Newkirk noticed he and Hogan were the only two at the table. With a sigh, he turned his attention to the Colonel and smirked. "How 'bout you, Gov'nor? You up for a game or two?"

Hogan chuckled and put down his now empty coffee cup. "No thanks, Peter. I'm not a glutton for punishment." He chuckled again as Newkirk rolled his eyes and muttered something about 'officers' before tossing his cards onto the table. He started to say something else when a sound caused both him and Hogan to look over in the direction of the double bunk bed in the corner.

The lower bunk rattled as it rose, and the wooden planks beneath the mattress dropped down and acted as a ladder. A dark man with a mustache and wearing a pea green jacket with the insignia of a Staff Sergeant on the sleeve appeared. He climbed up the ladder and stepped over the wooden frame and into the barracks.

He struck the side of the upper bedframe twice, and waited until the ladder rose and the bunk dropped down over the opening. He walked toward Hogan as he pulled out a folded sheet of paper from his inside jacket pocket.

"This just came in from London, Colonel," the black man, Hogan's Second-in-Command, replied calmly. "Sounded urgent."

"Thanks, Kinch." Hogan took the paper from him and read it. He let out a deep breath.

"What is it, Colonel?" asked Carter.

"London wants us to destroy the Schweinfurt Bridge, and the convoy travelling over it in seventy-two hours. Apparently, this convoy is carrying weapons meant for the Russian Front." Hogan looked at the man who handed him the message. "Kinch, radio London and tell them message received and confirmed. Let 'em know we'll take care of it." He handed the message back to Kinch.

"Right away, Colonel," said the radioman.

"What's the plan, Colonel?" asked Newkirk, his green eyes looking eagerly at his commanding officer.

"I don't have all the details worked out yet," Hogan replied wrapping his arms around himself. "But we might be able to destroy the bridge and the convoy at the same time." He looked over at his demolition expert. "Carter, how much time will you need to have eight explosive devices with delayed timers ready?"

Carter shrugged. "Gee, Colonel, I guess about twenty-four hours. How soon do you need them?"

"In about twenty-four hours."

Carter smiled. "You got 'em, boy…I mean Colonel." Hogan coughed to cover his smile of the enthusiastic young Tech Sergeant's common misstatement.

LeBeau grinned devilishly as he studied the American officer. "Something tells me you've got something cooking already, Mon Colonel."

"I do, LeBeau. I just need to work out a few things first."

Just then, Kinch reappeared from down below with another man behind him. Staff Sergeant Aaron Daniel Hotchner stood six feet tall with jet black hair and deep brown eyes that looked right through a person. And although he held the same rank as Kinch, he was aware Kinch outranked him by date of service. He closed the tunnel entrance, then walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of hot coffee. He hadn't been a member of Hogan's operation long, three months to be precise. And although he was still learning other facets of the operation, he mainly spelled Kinch on the radio at the moment. Right now, Kinch was monitoring the radio and Hotchner was on a break.

"Hotchner," Hogan suddenly called out noticing the man for the first time.

"Sir?"

"I think it's time you get some experience outside the wire. How would you like to go on a mission with Kinch, Newkirk, and Carter?"

Hogan noticed a smile come to the man's face showing his dimples. "Are you sure, Colonel?" he asked. "What I mean is…I haven't been here that long. Are you sure you want me to go with them?"

"Piece of pie," Carter replied with a goofy grin.

"Cake, Andrew. Piece of cake," said Newkirk with a roll of his eyes.

Hogan grinned, ignoring them. "Good a time as any to see what you can do. Is something wrong?"

"No, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Hogan smirked. "No need to thank me, Sergeant. Kinch will be in charge on the mission. Just do what he says and you'll do fine."

 **(Current Time)**

Hotch closed the journal. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Opening his eyes again, he let out a deep breath. Why didn't his grandfather tell him he had been a Prisoner-of-War? He suspected that he and Sean being children had been the primary reason. After all, how do you explain such horrors to a child without frightening him?

What he read so far did sound like a fairytale. And who the heck was this Papa Bear? He believed he needed to read more to make the determination if what he read turned out to be true. And regardless, if he could share these journals with his son. Hotch picked up the photo again and studied the people in it. He realized the officer in the photo more than likely was this Colonel Hogan.

The fact that his grandfather was assigned there meant this had been a prison camp for Noncoms. And from what he knew of POW camps from history, officers were assigned to camps specifically for officers. So why had an American officer been assigned to a prison camp for Noncoms? Another question which bothered Hotch, is why didn't this Colonel Hogan not try to escape?

And an even more curious question troubling him was, who were these men in the photo, and what were they to his grandfather?

* * *

(1) The abuse Hotch suffered as a child was hinted at in the series, but never disclosed.

(2) Hogan's Heroes was a comedy about life in a POW camp which ran weekly on CBS from 1965 thru 1971. It now runs as repeats on ME-Television Monday through Friday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hotch reentered his bedroom sipping hot coffee from a mug. He had planned originally to head to work in the afternoon, but changed his mind. So while he waited for the coffee to be ready, he called his best friend, David Rossi. He informed him he was taking the rest of the day off from work. Rossi became suspicious right away. Hotch never took a vacation day, much less a day off since he'd known him. The man came to work no matter how sick or injured he might be unless ordered not to come into the office. So when Hotch announced he wasn't coming in, Rossi at once figured something was wrong. Hotch assured him he was fine, and Jack was on his way to his grandparents' home in Pennsylvania with Jessica. And though the older man still had his suspicions, he decided not to push. So after a brief conversation, he ended the call. By that time, the coffee was ready. After refilling his mug, Hotch returned to his bedroom.

He found himself wondering about what he had read so far. His grandfather never spoke much about his involvement in World War Two, except to say he had been a radioman on a bomber plane during the conflict. The only other thing he had disclosed was that the plane had been shot down by the Germans. It was then that details had become rather sketchy. In fact, Hotch had learned more about WW2 as a child in school than from his grandfather who had been there **.** He wondered how many times his grandfather and this Colonel Hogan had tried to escape. How many times had they been caught? After repeated failures had they been worn down by the Germans and didn't try anymore? Did they even come close to successfully getting out of Germany? One thing for sure, Hotch found things becoming stranger and stranger to him.

He sat his mug down on the nightstand before he sat down on the bed. After he picked up the journal again, he adjusted the pillows behind him, and stretched out his legs on the mattress. He opened the journal, and began to read from where he had left off earlier.

* * *

 **(Mid-May, 1944):**

Hogan stood at the potbelly stove pouring himself another cup of coffee. He had been thinking not about the upcoming mission as much as his decision to have Sergeant Hotchner take part. He smirked as he marveled over how far the young sergeant had come since his arrival three months ago. He caught on to things quickly, and was an eager learner. Also, he found the man somewhat spooky with how he was able to 'read' people's minds, and understand what they were thinking. And to be perfectly honest, Hogan didn't know quite what to make of Hotchner's ability. Taking a drink of coffee, the officer found his mind wandering back to the first day he met the man.

 _ **(February 20 – 25, 1944):**_

Hogan had been outside Barracks Two with the members of his team when a jeep had come through the front gate and pulled up outside the Kommandantur. There were three armed guards in the vehicle besides the driver. One sat beside the driver; the other two were in the back seat. Sandwiched between them was a man with black hair wearing a worn black leather jacket.

"Wonder where they found him?" LeBeau asked softly eying the new arrival curiously.

"Musta been one of the planes that was shot down last night," Newkirk replied. "What d'ya think, Colonel?" he added without looking at Hogan.

"Probably," Hogan responded. "London mentioned something about a bombing raid taking place near here last night."

As Hogan and the men watched, the two armed guards in the back seat got out, and with rifles pointed, gestured for the prisoner to get out. His wrists were manacled in front of him. Hogan sighed and glanced at his men.

"I'd better rescue him before our illustrious Kommandant bores him to death," he said as he walked away. He hurried across the compound, bounded up the steps, and into the Kommandantur, the German command office. He winked at Hilda, the pretty blond secretary, and hesitated long enough to approach her desk and kiss her on the cheek. She smiled seductively at him. With a charming smile of his own, Hogan then approached the inner office door, and opened it without waiting for permission. He walked inside and gave a sloppy salute to the balding officer with a monocle seated behind a desk as he looked up, annoyed by the interruption. Hogan closed the door behind him.

"Hogan," Colonel Klink said loudly staring at his American counterpart. "What are you doing here? I didn't send for you."

Hogan, thumbs hooked in the side pockets of his bomber jacket, feigned hurt feelings. "I came because I anticipate your every wish, Kommandant." Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched the prisoner rubbing his wrists now free of their restraints. He also saw the man's dark brown eyes studying him more so out of curiosity given the interaction with the Kommandant.

Wilhelm Klink slammed the palms of both hands down on his desk in frustration at Hogan's flippancy.

"Hogan, I didn't send for you," he repeated. "But since you're here…"

Hogan looked at the prisoner with a lopsided grin. "Name, rank, and serial number only."

The prisoner studied Hogan carefully. _"Why is an American officer assigned to a prison camp for Noncoms?"_ he asked himself. _"Is this a Nazi trick to lower my defenses?"_ Both men then faced Klink who did his best to look fierce and menacing. He failed miserably.

"Sergeant, you have been brought to the toughest prison camp in all Germany. Nobody has ever escaped from Stalag 13." Klink paused when he noticed Hogan lift his eyes skyward and shake his head. "Colonel Hogan, am I boring you by any chance?"

"Not at all, sir. I just think that rather than repeating your brilliant indoctrination every time there's new prisoner, you should consider recording it. This way the prisoners can play it over and over whenever they get the urge to try and escape. Believe me, sir. You will be much more threatening…not that you aren't already." Hogan winked at the prisoner slyly.

Hotchner struggled to maintain a poker face wondering why Hogan spoke to a German officer like this. _I don't understand what's going on here._

Klink smiled as he mulled over the suggestion. "You really think that would be…Hogaaaan! I will tolerate no further interruptions by you!"

Hogan let out a deep breath. "Yes, sir," he sighed.

Satisfied, Klink stared again at the prisoner. "Now, what is your flying unit and where are you stationed?"

The prisoner glanced at Hogan who shook his head. The prisoner turned back to Klink.

"Hotchner, Aaron D. Sergeant. Serial number 0874508."

"I'm warning you, Sergeant. We have ways of getting information out of you like a week in solitary. So I will again ask you what is your flying unit and where are you stationed?"

Hogan shook his head and sighed loud enough to get Klink's attention. Klink seemed frustrated by the interruption. He focused his attention to the Senior POW officer again.

"What is it now, Hogan?" he asked wearily.

"Kommandant, he just got here," Hogan remarked, jerking a thumb in Hotchner's direction. "Can't you let him look around first before you give 'im a room in the hotel basement?" Hotchner smiled at Hogan's flippancy.

Klink jumped to his feet slamming both hands palms down on his desk. "So you find this amusing, Sergeant? We'll soon change that. _Schuuuuuultz_!" the Kommandant bellowed.

The door opened and in walked a portly soldier wearing a guard's uniform. He came to attention as much as his large stomach would allow.

"Hi 'ya, Schultz," Hogan remarked with a grin. "Glad you could join us."

Hans Schultz, Sergeant-of-the-Guard, chuckled and saluted the American officer who returned his salute. "You called for me, Colonel Hogan?"

"Schultz…" said Klink, exasperated. "I called for you, Dummkopf!"

The guard faced Klink and saluted sharply.

"Sorry, Herr Kommandant. Sergeant Schultz reporting as ordered."

"Schultz, take Sergeant Hotchner to the cooler. A week in solitary should loosen his tongue."

"It shall be done, Herr Kommandant."

Hogan leaned his head toward Hotchner. "That's one of the rooms without a view," he whispered. Hotchner chuckled again. Regardless of his suspicions, he found himself liking this brash American officer.

"And Schultz, after you do that, take Colonel Hogan back to his barracks and see to it he stays there. Diiiiissssmissed!"

"Well…" Hogan huffed feigning being insulted.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." Schultz opened Klink's office door. "Colonel Hogan, bitte."

Hogan smirked. "Anything for you, Schultz since you asked so nicely."

"Danke."

" _Schuuuuuulllltzzzzz!_ " bellowed the Kommandant, his entire body trembling with rage.

Schultz's face went pale as he looked at Klink and saluted.

As he walked out the door, Hogan offered another sloppy salute. Then, he glanced at Schultz and covertly rolled his eyes eliciting a quiet chuckle from the guard as he followed the two prisoners out the door.

Walking across the compound and in the direction of the cells, Hogan glanced at Hotchner with a lopsided grin. It was as if to say 'don't worry about it.' Hotchner's only response was to discreetly nod his head mindful that Schultz was with them.

When they entered the holding area where the prison cells were located, Schultz removed the keys from his belt, and approached one of the solitary cells.

"Hey, Schultz," Hogan muttered reaching inside his jacket as the guard unlocked the cell door and ordered the prisoner into the cell. He started to close the door when Hogan spoke again. "Can I have five minutes with the new man?"

"No. No. No. Colonel Hogan, I am to take you back to the barracks and…and…" Schultz paused as Hogan waved a chocolate candy bar in his face. His eyes widened with glee at the tasty treat. "I can't Colonel Hogan. I am a just a humble sergeant who follows orders and…" Hogan took out a second, and then a third chocolate bar.

Schultz's resolve now gone, eagerly took the chocolate bars from Hogan's hands.

"Ten minutes?" Schultz responded softly.

Hogan grinned as he patted the guard's large stomach. "Eat 'em slowly." He waited until Schultz was a safe distance away before he entered the prison cell himself. He noticed the puzzled but wary expression on Hotchner's face. "Have a seat, Sergeant." Hogan waited until the sergeant sat down on the single bunk bed before he pulled over a stool and sat facing the man. He sensed the man had many questions and would expect answers.

"Sergeant, I am Colonel Robert Hogan, Senior POW officer here at Casa Klink."

Hotchner nodded. And while he honestly felt he could trust Hogan, he wasn't sure he could _completely_ trust him. And he decided it would be better to be safe than sorry until he was positive. "Hotchner, Aaron D., Sergeant. Serial number 0874508. Colonel, can I ask a question?"

"What is it?"

"Why is an American officer in a prison camp for Noncoms?"

Hogan chuckled. "My reservations got mixed up by the travel agency. Where did the Krauts find you? I understand there was a bombing raid near here last night."

Hotchner remained quiet. Despite liking this American, there was still a part of him that he wasn't sure about yet.

"Hotchner, Aaron D., Sergeant. Serial number 0874508."

Hogan smiled. "I understand, Sergeant. And for what it's worth, I am on our side. Guess I'll just have to prove you can trust me." He patted Hotchner's knee. "I'll get Klink to release you in a day or two, and try to have you assigned to my barracks. Then we'll talk."

 **(End of Flashback)**

Hogan sighed and took another drink of coffee. He smiled as he turned and watched Newkirk, Carter, Hotchner and LeBeau seated at the table. Carter and Hotchner were playing poker with Newkirk, while LeBeau played a game of solitaire. He knew Kinch was below checking out his equipment. He also knew the next two nights were going to be long ones.

* * *

Hotch lay the journal down beside him on the bed, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. In addition to what he had learned earlier, he had to admit that his grandfather had one very active and vivid imagination. After all, there was no way what he read so far could be real. An American officer in a prison camp for Noncoms? That same American officer being so flippant with a German officer and suffering no repercussions? And a German guard able to be bribed with chocolate candy bars? Not only was such a thing impossible, but was too ridiculous for such things to be true. Yet a small part of him started to wonder if this was a fairy-tale mixed with just a trace of reality. Hotch reached for, picked up, and studied the photo again. He found himself growing more and more curious about the five men and their connection with his grandfather.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It was six a.m. in the morning when Hotch walked into the BAU office of the FBI building in Quantico, Virginia. Dressed in a black suit with a red silk tie, white dress shirt, and highly polished black shoes, he more resembled the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Nobody would have figured him to be the Unit Chief of a group of elite profilers. He nodded politely to other agents as they entered the elevator but did not speak. There were other things on his mind at the moment; more important things. He had not read anymore of the journal last night. Instead, he spent several hours going over what he had already read, making notes and jotting down the questions he needed answers to on a legal pad. Then, he put the legal pad, photo, and journal into his briefcase before he left for work that morning. He hoped to read more after everybody had left for the day and he was alone.

He let out a deep breath as the elevator doors hissed open when reaching the sixth floor. After he stepped out of the elevator, he walked through the double Plexiglas doors of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, ignoring the few agents who were at their desks. Not seeing any member of his team at their desks, he hurried up the steps to the catwalk and into his office. He shut the door, but didn't lock it as it would only arouse suspicion from his team. And that was something he did not need or want right now.

Realizing his team members would be arriving soon, he lay his briefcase on his desk and sat down in the plush chair behind it. Once he opened his briefcase, he took out the photo and tucked it in his inner jacket pocket. He started to remove the journal and legal pad, but decided not to at the moment; there would be plenty of time for that later. So, after he sat his briefcase on the floor under his desk, he grabbed the top folder from a stack of case files, opened it, and began to read. He'd wait until his tech analyst was in her office, and have her find out everything she could on the five other men with his grandfather. As he tried to focus on the file in front of him, a movement in the bullpen below caught his attention through the open Venetian blinds. He glanced up discreetly and a smile appeared.

Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss, carrying a large Styrofoam coffee container in one hand, walked into the bullpen, her straight jet black hair hanging loose below her shoulders. She wore black slacks with a matching jacket, a blood red V-neck top, and black heels. Not observing anybody else from her team, she thought she was the first to arrive. That was until she raised her eyes in the direction of the catwalk.

The moment her dark brown eyes looked up at the corner office, she saw Hotch through the open blinds hard at work. She shook her head realizing her boss had still arrived before her. The daughter of an Ambassador, Emily could have enjoyed a life of luxury, and lived off her mother's money. But she chose the FBI and in particular, the BAU. She wanted to help people and do something on her own without her mother's influence. And since joining Hotchner's team, she had proven herself quite capable, and earned the trust of both Hotchner and the team. Chuckling while shaking her head, Prentiss sat down at her desk, resting her coffee cup nearby, and reached for the top folder in her stack. She hated paperwork with a passion, and would rather be chasing down UnSubs. (1) But it had to be done.

"Good morning," said a friendly voice. Prentiss looked over and saw her friend, Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, affectionately known as 'JJ.'

Dressed in a light gray pantsuit with a powder blue top, the woman brushed a strand of her long blond hair over her shoulders. She was the team's media liaison and the intermediary between the team, and everybody else including law enforcement. Prentiss smiled as the blonde approached her desk and headed in the direction of the break area, her favorite coffee mug in one hand.

"It would be if there was no paperwork," Prentiss remarked sarcastically.

JJ smiled. "Just be glad you don't have my office then." She thought of all the dozens of case files waiting to be reviewed and either responded to, or brought to the team's attention for them to work.

"Must be tough," Emily smirked seeing the blonde grin. She returned to her case file.

J.J. chuckled as she started to walk away, but a glance up at Hotch's corner office stopped her. She had seen Prentiss arrive, still it never ceased to amaze her that no matter how early the others arrived, Hotch still managed to beat everybody into the office. Her bright blue eyes became sad as she studied their boss.

"Emily, is something bothering Hotch?"

Prentiss looked at the blonde before her eyes shifted up to the corner office again. "I don't think so." She looked back at the blonde. "Why? Have you noticed anything wrong?"

JJ glanced at the corner office momentarily. "I'm not sure. I spoke to him when he came in, but he acted as if he hadn't heard me. That or he chose to ignore me."

Prentiss shrugged her shoulders. "Might have something to do with Jack having gone to visit his grandparents for the summer. I mean, it's the first time since Haley died that he and Jack will be apart for an entire summer."

But JJ didn't appear convinced. "Maybe. Is Rossi here yet?"

"Not yet. But he should be here shortly."

"I'll check with him. Thanks." With a final glance in Hotch's direction, JJ walked into the break area still concerned about their boss. Once in the break area, she proceeded to pour the hot coffee. Sensing someone approaching, she looked around to see Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi, wearing jeans, a striped shirt open at the collar, and a black jacket.

"Hey, Rossi," JJ remarked before taking a sip of her coffee. She savored the hot brew.

"JJ," Rossi replied with a lopsided grin. He grabbed a Styrofoam coffee cup and proceeded to fill it with coffee. "So how's Henry? Will?"

JJ smiled as she thought about her husband, Detective Will LaMontagne, and their three-year-old son, Henry. They were the loves of her life.

"They're both fine, thanks for asking. And you?"

Rossi took a drink of his black coffee, then stroked his graying goatee. "I'm doing okay for an old man."

JJ chuckled. "You're not old. Besides, haven't you heard age is just a number?"

Rossi smirked. "You've been hanging around Reid too long." He took another drink of coffee.

JJ grinned deviously. "Maybe," she replied before a thoughtful look appeared. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"I'm not sure exactly. I ran into Hotch when he arrived and spoke to him. He walked right past me without answering me. I don't know if he didn't hear me or purposely ignored me. I understand Jack's at his grandparents for the summer, and he unexpectedly took off from work yesterday. He's never taken a day off from work since I've known him. I guess I'm asking if he's all right." An overly compassionate woman, JJ had been the younger of two girls growing up with a loving family. But her idyllic life changed in one tragic moment. When she was eleven, her seventeen-year-old sister, Rosalie, committed suicide. From that moment, JJ vowed to live her life helping others.

Rossi shrugged. "He hasn't said anything to me. I mean, he might be feeling a bit lonely right now I suppose. He's never been separated from his son for this long."

But JJ wasn't convinced. "I just have a feeling it's more than him missing Jack. It's like, I can't really explain it. It's like he had something on his mind that was bothering him."

"I'll speak with him. But I'm sure it's probably nothing."

A small smile appeared. "Thanks. And if something is wrong, remind him we're all here for him."

"I will."

The blonde's smile widened before she turned and walked away.

The older man chuckled. He wasn't sure anything was wrong with his best friend, the man he considered a son, but he would find out. He had known Aaron Hotchner nearly twenty years, and had not only recruited him into the BAU, but mentored him. They had become very close during that time and retained that closeness when Rossi retired the first time. He recalled how elated he was when he found out Hotch was named Unit Chief. The young man deserved it and had worked hard to earn it. Ten years later, Rossi came out of retirement to replace the burned out Jason Gideon, and rejoined the team as a subordinate under Hotch. It had been a rough readjustment period for Rossi. He had to learn a new way of doing the job he had helped set up with Jason Gideon and Max Ryan years ago. But with Hotch's patience, he did adjust, and now he and Hotch were closer than ever.

Rossi knew about Hotch's upbringing and the abuse by his father, and that it was this abuse which made Hotch not seek help if he had personal problems. But Dave Rossi was certain of one thing. If something was troubling his best friend, he would find out what it was and help, even if Hotch initially resisted. He took another drink of his coffee as he thought about how he would approach Aaron. He walked out of the break area just in time to see the two remaining members of their team, Supervisory Special Agents Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid. They were walking into the bullpen, Reid carrying a large Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand, and the other resting on his messenger bag. Morgan took a drink from his Styrofoam cup as well when his eyes fell on Rossi.

"Hey, Rossi," Morgan said.

"Derek." Rossi winced watching Reid apparently savoring his coffee knowing how the young genius liked it. An excessive amount of sugar in his coffee. "How can you drink that?" he asked.

"What?" Reid asked the older man. "It's just coffee."

"It's not coffee, Pretty Boy. It's more like a cup of sugar with a little coffee added," Morgan enjoyed teasing the younger man who he considered his baby brother.

Rossi wanted to stay and talk with the duo, but his eyes shifted upward and spotted Hotch in his office. "Excuse me," he announced and headed for the stairs leading to the catwalk leaving Reid and Morgan alone.

After Reid sat his coffee cup on his desk, he removed his messenger bag shoulder strap over his head and sat it on the floor. He then sat in the chair behind his desk. Reid was a genius who graduated from a public Las Vegas High School at twelve years of age. He had an I.Q. of 187, read 20,000 words a minute, and had an eidetic memory along with holding three Phds. His life was wrapped solely around statistics and probabilities. He was the youngest member of the team, and resembled more of a 'geek' than an agent. But he was more than capable of doing his job. With a smirk on his handsome face, Reid leaned back in his chair with both hands clasped over his midsection.

Derek Morgan sat on the edge of Reid's desk and took another drink of coffee. "C'mon, Reid" he said when he noticed the younger man's distraction. "You gotta learn to loosen up even if just a little. You gotta stop bein' so uptight, man."

"I am not uptight, man," Reid gave his best impersonation of the black agent. "I am just fine the way I am. I like myself."

"Of course you like yourself. You're the only one who can understand you." Morgan saw the glare Reid was giving him. "Look, kid, all I'm sayin' is that you need to live a little."

Reid seemed confused. "As I am both talking and breathing, I must be alive. So your statement of living a little doesn't make sense."

Prentiss, whose desk was next to Reid's, looked at Morgan. "Give it up, Morgan," she said. It was well known through the BAU and the bureau that Morgan was known as a ladies man.

Morgan looked over at the brunette agent. "C'mon, Princess. Don't tell me you agree with the way the kid here is living his life?" Morgan was an extremely confident and assertive man.

Emily stopped writing and looked up into Morgan's eyes. "Derek, do you really want to start an argument you can't win?"

"What argument? Who can't win?" asked Morgan.

"You," Reid added with a grin. He enjoyed teasing back even if Morgan didn't realize he was being played.

"I'm not arguin'. All I'm sayin' is that you need to stop living in books, Star Trek and Doctor Who marathons, and get out. Meet a couple of hot babes, and live. You have a lot to offer a lady and can use a little lovin'."

"Ewww," Prentiss said with a grimace. "Can use a little lovin'. Now I'm grossed out."

Reid's eyes narrowed but not in anger. "Why should I give up Star Trek and Doctor Who? Better yet, why should I give up my books? You'd be amazed how much one can learn from them. And as for meeting a hot babe as you phrase it, a woman is not hot. It's psychically impossible for a person to be hot unless they are in the sun too long."

Morgan rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. "I give up, people." He collapsed in his chair across from Prentiss and grabbed a file folder.

"Smart move," Reid mumbled softly.

Morgan paused. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Reid replied, the corners of his mouth curling upward.

* * *

Hotch had been staring at the same sentence in his file for the past hour when there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he announced not looking up from the file.

David Rossi walked into his friend's office, and without permission, sat down in one of the two chairs facing Hotch's desk. He stared at his friend in silence waiting.

"I knew it was you. Something I can help you with?" Hotch asked looking up at the older man.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"What are you talking about?" Hotch asked.

Rossi took a drink of his coffee. "JJ said when she spoke to you earlier you ignored her. She asked me if you're okay. So, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"For starters, since when do you take a day off from work? Plus, it's not like you to be preoccupied first thing in the morning. I know Jack is away for the summer, so there's nothing wrong there. So what's got you so preoccupied this morning?"

"Nothing," said Hotch. He did not want to discuss the journal or its contents with anyone. "I swear. And just because I didn't speak with JJ this morning doesn't mean there's anything wrong. I'm fine."

"You know I'm gonna find out," Rossi said with a smug look.

"There's nothing to find out. Besides, don't you have your own paperwork to catch up on, Dave? We're on stand down this week so we can catch up seeing as we've all fallen behind with our reports."

Rossi smirked. "Are you trying to get rid of me by chance?"

"No. But I have a lot of work to catch up on as do you, and would appreciate being able to get to it. I suggest you do the same."

Rossi nodded sensing his friend was lying. But he'd drop the concern for now. He got up and headed to the door. As his hand gripped the knob, he turned when Hotch called out to him.

"What?"

Hotch looked up at the older man. "Is Garcia in yet?"

"I think so. Why?"

"No particular reason. I need her to do something for me."

"Okay. If you decide you need to talk, you know where to find me."

"I do. Thanks, I mean it."

"Anytime, my friend." Rossi exited Hotch's office and returned to his own which was next to Hotch's.

Alone, Hotch let out a deep breath, and let his mind wander for several seconds. He hadn't realized he had ignored JJ when he arrived, and figured he'd have to be more careful. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and removed the photo. After staring at it for several seconds, he opened one of his desk drawers, removed an empty case folder, and placed the photo inside it. He got to his feet and walked out of his office. He needed to see Penelope Garcia.

* * *

(1)UnSub is the term used by Profilers in lieu of a suspect's name, which is short for Unknown Subject.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the length of time without updating. But my Bipolar Depression reared it's ugly head and is only now starting to go away. I can't do anything when I'm this way, so I apologize for leaving my readers in a lurch. But I am hoping soon I will be able to start writing again on a regular basis as I haven't written in weeks, and will soon begin to post on a regular basis . But I just struggled to write chapter 4 and it took a while to complete. But I promise I will continue and finish this story.**

 **Chapter 4**

Penelope Garcia sat at her computer table with fingers typing furiously on her computer, imputing information from the completed files of her BAU team. With the speed at which she worked, and if she stayed late, she figured she'd have them all done by midnight at the latest.

She wore a bright yellow and red dress with its bottom half consisting of a pleated black skirt above the knee, with a black Bolero jacket. She accented her appearance with large black and yellow teardrop earrings. She also wore a black necklace, and in her long, thick golden blonde hair was a shiny black plastic daisy hair clip. It had a yellow center the size of a saucer. There were large colored rings on her fingers, and multicolored bracelets on both wrists. To anybody who saw her attire, she, in no way, met the dress code for how a Technical Analyst for the FBI should dress.

But her mode of dress didn't matter to anybody because of her ability with computers. She was simply the best. And Hotchner considered her style of dress and quirkiness a breath of fresh air considering the nightmarish things he and his team saw on a daily basis. And they did their best to protect her from the ugliness they saw. Even her office reflected her mode of dress with its sparkly items, miniature plastic animals, the glowing plastic flowers, and other things she kept there. All of which was a reminder of the beauty and goodness in life.

Garcia loved her job as well as her team. They were all more than coworkers and friends; they were her family and cared about each other. Of all of them, she was closest to Derek Morgan with whom she openly flirted, and he with her. But other than the flirting, there was nothing of a sexual nature going on between them. Also, she had several nicknames for each member of the team including Hotchner himself. But despite the kidding and flirting, she was fiercely loyal to her family. And while not a confrontational person, would fight tooth and nail to protect her family from harm using her computers. But she was happiest when alone in her 'lair' with her computers as she was right now.

She reached for her cup of black coffee sitting a safe distance from her keyboard, and took a drink of the hot brew savoring the taste. After she sat the cup back down, she returned to work when someone knocked on her door.

"Enter and be prepared to be amazed by the Goddess of all things technical," she announced. Garcia spun her chair around so she'd face whoever came into her office. A smile appeared when she saw Hotch walk through the door. "Yes, Mon Capitan. What can the all-knowing Goddess do for you?"

Hotch's expression remained neutral as he handed Garcia the folder he had been carrying. "Garcia, I need, as Morgan says, for you to work your magic. And please keep this between the two of us. That means no telling Morgan, Prentiss, or JJ."

"But I share everything with my Chocolate Adonis, my raven-haired goddess, and my little Buttercup."

Hotch's expression didn't change. "Not this, Garcia. It's personal and nobody's business."

Penelope opened the folder and studied the photo inside it. "What do you need me to do, sir?" she asked looking up inquisitively at her boss.

"I want you to find everything you can on all the people in this photo except this one." Hotch pointed to his grandfather. "I already know who he is, but not anything about the others, not even their names."

"But I haven't finished downloading these case files from the team yet."

Hotch understood downloading the case files into the computer was important. Still, he needed information as to who the men in the photo with his grandfather were. He believed any information might somehow help him understand more of what was in the journals.

"Finish downloading the case files first. Research the men in this photo when you're finished doing that. There's no urgency," he explained. "Whenever you get the time is fine."

"Your wish is my command, my liege." Garcia paused. "Sir, can I ask who is the person you already know?" She wasn't sure her boss would say as he was a very private man.

"He was my grandfather."

Garcia glanced at the photo again and then at her boss. "I thought there was a family resemblance. If you don't mind my saying so, sir, I can see where you got your good looks. You resemble your grandfather. Right down to the dimples."

A tinge of crimson highlighted Hotch's cheeks. He always had difficulty accepting compliments of any kind.

And although she wasn't a profiler, she noticed from her boss's eyes he was uncomfortable and felt bad. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to embarrass…."

Hotch held up a hand stopping her. "No apology necessary. It's okay. And thank you for the compliment. Just make sure you keep this to yourself. And when you're done, bring your findings only to me…nobody else. Understand?"

"It shall be done, sir. Don't worry. And mum's the word." She drew an imaginary zipper across her mouth.

"Thanks. I'll be in my office when you're done. Call me if you run into a problem."

"Yes, sir. If there's anything there, I will seek it out like the bloodhound that I am," she replied turning back around to her computers.

Hotch smiled watching the tech analyst return to downloading the case files. And if there was any information to be found on the men in the photo, his technical analyst would uncover it regardless of how deep she had to dig. After all, she could find anything on anybody. So he had no doubt he would get a few answers. As he watched her work, Hotch quietly left her office to return to his own and wait.

As soon as she heard her office door close, Garcia glanced over her shoulder to be sure she was alone. Then, she looked at the folder Hotch had given her. While aware the info in the team's case files was important, she had to admit her curiosity was piqued by the men in the photo and who they were. After a minute, she continued downloading the next report on one monitor, grabbed the file Hotch had given her, and lay it and the photo in front of her. She began typing on another monitor.

"Sorry, Bossman," she apologized with her eyes on the monitor. "But you'll understand and forgive me. Besides, my computers can multitask almost as well as me."

* * *

Hotch walked through the double doors of the BAU. As he made his way in the direction of the steps leading to the catwalk, he was aware of several pairs of eyes watching him. Walking up the steps to the catwalk, he glanced over to see Prentiss, Morgan, and Reid watching him. He paused midway up the steps and looked down examining himself carefully.

"What?" he asked arching his eyebrows staring over at the others. "Is my fly open or something?"

"No sir," the others said in unison, quickly diverting their eyes and turned back to their case files.

With a shake of his head, Hotch walked into his office and closed the door. He then closed the blinds so he could have a semblance of privacy. It was difficult for him to wait for Garcia to complete her research, but he had no choice. The tech analyst was extremely thorough, and would give him the most complete information she found. And that would take time. But Hotch was not known for his patience.

With elbows on the edge of his desk, he massaged his forehead and closed his eyes. He was beginning to feel like he was working a case, only this time there was no Unknown Subject or crime. All that remained was a mystery. And instead of being able to use his team, he was all alone with no help whatsoever. So lost in thought was he that he looked up in surprise when someone cleared their throat. He spied Rossi standing in front of his desk and realized he hadn't even heard him come in his office.

"Can I help you with something?"

"I'm not sure," Rossi replied as he sat down in one of the two chairs facing his friend's desk. "I mean, I knocked twice and got no answer. Then I opened the door and called out to you but you still didn't answer me. So based on that, I have to assume something is on your mind."

Hotch put on his best stoic expression. "Dave, I'm fine. There is…"

"Also…" Rossi continued ignoring him. "…Emily came to me. She's worried about you; the team's worried about you. I'm worried about you."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Hotch asked, exasperated. He was well aware how pushy and persistent Rossi could be when he wanted to be. Besides being his best friend for nearly twenty years, the man could read him like a book.

"Nope. So you might as well tell me now because I will find out."

Hotch shook his head. He wanted to talk to Dave about this. He really did. And he believed his best friend would understand and want to help him unravel this mystery. But for some reason he couldn't bring himself to discuss it. Not without more information anyway.

"There's no reason for anybody to be concerned. I'm fine. I'm just a little off center because Jack's gone for the entire summer." He chuckled. "I'm not used to him being gone for an entire summer. The house is so empty and quiet without him, and I miss him terribly."

"I understand." Rossi's eyes narrowed as he stroked his goatee. "Besides Jack being gone for the summer, I suspect something else is on your mind, my friend."

"There's nothing else, I swear. Besides, Jessica called yesterday evening to assure me they arrived safely. And Jack is having a ball playing with his cousins."

"Did you get to speak with your son afterwards?"

"Just for a minute or two. He told me he missed me and he loved me. And wishes I could have come with them."

"So why didn't you? It's not like you don't have the leave. You never take a vacation. Lord knows you could have taken off a week at least. We would have held down the fort until you came back."

"I'm the boss. I just can't take off whenever I want. Besides, with Strauss on our backs, she'd use that opportunity to do who knows what." The entire team, and especially Aaron Hotchner, were well aware their Section Chief, Erin Strauss, would go to any lengths to break them up, and permanently get rid of Hotchner. It was known she had her eye on an upper level management position in the Bureau, and believed Hotchner to be a threat.

"As long as I'm here, I can head her off should she try anything. Besides, I don't want you or anybody else on this team to fight my battles for me and maybe lose their job. I'd rather take the hit if it comes down to it. So just leave it alone." Then he gave his friend a lopsided grin. "Besides, I'd rather keep your offer in mind as a last resort." Hotch was well aware during Rossi's time with the BAU before he originally retired, he and Strauss had a relationship which ended when he retired. The man knew things about the woman; things she would rather keep buried. But to protect the man who was like a son to him, Rossi wouldn't hesitate to use what he knew, and Hotch understood that. But he didn't want to resort to blackmailing his Section Chief unless there was no other choice.

Rossi frowned. "Using Erin as an excuse not to be with your son is a cop-out and you know it. If you're that afraid being gone a few days would give her the opportunity to get rid of you, then we need to deal with this now." He pinned his friend with the most serious look Hotch had seen in a long while. He started to say something shaking his head, but Rossi cut him off quickly. "Otherwise, I can handle our beloved Section Chief," he added sarcastically. "I know where the skeletons are buried. So, what's the _real_ reason you didn't go with Jess and your son?"

Hotch let out a deep breath and clasped his hands on his desk. He stared Rossi in the eye. "My ex-father-in-law, Roy Brooks, and I don't really see eye-to-eye on anything, especially where Haley is concerned. I didn't want Jack exposed to his accusations or tirades. So…" he didn't continue hoping Rossi would understand. (1)

Rossi nodded slowly and held up a hand. "Enough said. I've been married and divorced three times, and had my share of difficult fathers-in-laws. So I understand."

"Thanks." A faint smile crossed Aaron's face.

"Look, why don't you come home with me tonight. As you said, the house is empty at the moment, and there's no reason you should be alone at least for tonight. I can prepare Chicken Carbonara for us, and open a bottle of wine. We can talk, and I would enjoy the company. So what d'ya say?"

Hotch mulled over the offer. He let out a deep breath through his nose. Every fiber of his being told him to say yes. But he wanted to read more of the journal. "Thanks for the offer, but I need to say no. I promised to Skype Jack this evening, and I don't want to disappoint him by not being home. Can I have a rain check?" He looked up at his friend with a passive expression.

Rossi grinned as he started to get up out of the chair. "I understand. Later in the week maybe. Consider my offer an open invitation. Whenever you don't want to be moping around in that empty apartment of yours, just give a yell." He started toward the door and grabbed the door handle. As he turned it, Hotch called out to him, making the older man pause. Rossi turned and looked back at his boss and friend.

"Change your mind already?"

A smile appeared on Aaron's face. "No. But thanks for being concerned enough to ask. Just tell the others I'm fine, and they need not worry."

Rossi nodded. "I will," and walked out closing the door behind him. He glanced back at the closed door and shook his head sadly. He truly believed the man did miss his young son. But he also believed his friend was hiding what was really bothering him. And he was intent on finding out about what.

* * *

(1) Hotch's ex-father-in-law, and his dislike for Hotch, was mentioned in the episode A PLACE AT THE TABLE, Season 10.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I thought I'd put this out before Thanksgiving as I will be away for about a week beginning tomorrow. I will post again sometime after the holiday. Here's hoping everybody has a safe and happy Thanksgiving.**

 **Chapter 5**

Garcia was hard at work researching the men in the photo. First, she scanned it into her computer. This way she wouldn't have to keep the original in case Hotch requested more research. The original lay on top of the folder, and she moved it out of her way so she could work without a distraction. When she gave the info to Hotch, she would return the photo. As her fingers continued their furious pace, she paused to take a closer look at it and study the five men. She admitted each was quite good-looking in his own way, especially the black man with the mustache, and in other ways he reminded her of Derek Morgan. Handsome. The same sexy smile. And the same dreamy eyes in which one could get lost. In her own way, she wished she could have met this man. She bet he was as intelligent as Derek was. But since the uniforms in the photo looked out of date for the current times, she figured the men were from World War Two.

Garcia was so enthralled with the photo that she didn't hear the door of her office open, and two people enter.

"Hey, Garcia," said Emily Prentiss as she touched Garcia on the shoulder causing the tech analyst to nearly jump out of her seat, dropping the photograph onto the table. She spun around to find Prentiss and JJ standing behind her. "You ready?"

"Ready for what?" the tech analyst inquired, puzzled, looking back and forth. "Why are you here? What don't I know? Do either or both of you need something?" she asked rapidly.

Prentiss stared at JJ. "Something tells me she forgot."

"Forgot what?" asked Garcia.

JJ rolled her blue eyes. "Lunch. You promised to come with us to that new sandwich shop that recently opened two blocks away. Remember? We all agreed to go there today. I understand the food there makes your mouth water."

Garcia looked as if in shock. She had indeed forgotten all about their luncheon date, and slapped her forehead. "I'm sorry. Bossman wanted me to do something, and I totally forgot. I'll be ready to go in a hot second," she added reaching for her pocketbook.

Prentiss spotted the photo and picked it up before Garcia could stop her.

"Is this what Hotch gave you?" she asked.

Garcia paused and looked at the brunette, a bit depressed. "I'm not supposed to tell anybody. Hotch wants this to stay between him and me. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Who are these guys anyway?" Prentiss asked.

"I have no idea," Garcia replied turning off her computer and grabbing her pocketbook. "Now let's go to lunch." She wanted to get them out of her office as quickly as possible to avoid more questions she wasn't prepared to answer.

"Now wait a minute," JJ stated and took the black and white photo from Emily. But Emily continued looking at it over the blonde's shoulder. "Why would Hotch want you to check out these men? And why is Hotch in it?" she asked looking at the tech analyst.

"The man who looks so much like Hotch is because he's his grandfather," Garcia explained. "Other than that, I promised Mon Capitan," which was one of her nicknames for Aaron Hotchner.

"C'mon, Garcia…" Prentiss appeared to beg. "You can tell us. We won't tell anybody. We promise."

"I can't. Hotch will kill me if he finds out I even told you that much."

JJ smirked. "I love a man in a uniform," she nearly drooled as she stared at Hogan. "They're all hot-looking, but this guy in the Colonel's uniform has a cute smile, and boy he is really hot."

"Isn't he?" asked Prentiss with a wide grin. "And Hotch looks just like his grandfather. Same dark eyes, same black hair, same dimples." She looked up at Garcia. "He wants you to research his grandfather as well?"

"I don't need to research him. Just the others."

"So he has no idea who the other men in this picture are?" asked JJ.

"Not a clue."

"You find anything yet?" asked JJ.

"Not much, Buttercup." Buttercup was one of Garcia's nicknames for JJ because of her long golden blonde hair. "At the time this was taken, the man you and my raven-haired goddess are drooling over is Colonel Robert Edward Hogan, United States Army Air Corp."

Garcia pointed to each man in the photo as she spoke. "This is Corporal Louis LeBeau from the land of amour and the Eiffel Tower. The man with the sideburns is Corporal Peter Newkirk from jolly ole London, England. I haven't been able to find out who this one is," she explained pointing to a smiling Carter's face. I mean, he's dressed as a sergeant, but there's nothing on him. All I've been able to find so far is a Lieutenant Andrew Carter, United States Army Air Corp."

She picked up a printed color photo of Andrew Carter decked out in his Lieutenant's uniform and cap. "As you can see, there is a resemblance, but this other guy here is a sergeant. So no way can it be the same person. There's just no way." A smile appeared. "And this handsome hunk with the sexy eyes is Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe. He's with the US Army Air Corp like Hogan. Now, can we go to lunch?" She reached for the photo but JJ again pulled it away from her.

JJ arched an eyebrow. "Handsome hunk, huh?" She chuckled. "You better not let Morgan hear you say that."

"Never fear. Derek Morgan is still number one on my personal hit parade of most delicious goodies," Garcia replied with a dreamy look in her eyes.

"US Army Air Corp?" asked Prentiss. "That was during World War Two."

JJ and Emily glanced at the back of the photo for a moment.

"Hmmm," JJ muttered, her eyes narrowed. "Stalag 13, 1944." She glanced at Prentiss and then Garcia. "Garcia, did Hotch say where this was taken?"

"Have no idea. Hotch never said. Does it matter?" Garcia asked, puzzled.

"What are you thinking, JJ?" Prentiss looked at her teammate.

"I can't be sure…" JJ said. "On the back it says this was taken in Stalag 13 in 1944. I'm pretty sure this was taken in a POW camp."

Prentiss stared at the tech analyst with arched eyebrows. "Hotch's grandfather was a POW during World War Two?"

"I don't know. All Hotch asked is that I research the people in the photo. Now please stop asking me questions," she begged. "I've said too much already. Can we please go now?"

Just then, the door to Garcia's office opened again, and Derek Morgan sauntered in with his mega-watt smile when his eyes fell on Garcia.

"So here is where everybody's disappeared to," he remarked with a smirk. "What's going on, Baby Girl? You holdin' a private get-together? Or is it open to one and all?"

Garcia grinned. "For you, my Chocolate Thunder, you are always welcome. But not right now because we three are going to lunch," she stated reaching for the photo, but JJ pulled it out of her reach.

Stepping closer, Morgan noticed it and took it from JJ.

"What'cha doin'? Who are these guys in the outdated uniforms?"

"I'm doing research for Bossman," Garcia replied wearily. "And before you ask me, I'm not allowed to say anything. I promised Hotch. Also, none of you can let him find out you even saw this photo. Hotch doesn't want anybody to find out."

JJ and Prentiss stared at each other and smirked.

"Find anything, Garcia?" Morgan asked.

The tech analyst sighed wearily. She hoped their boss never discovered she talked after he specifically asked her not to tell anybody. And she hated to hurt or disappoint the man.

"Not much," she replied, and then gave Morgan the same information of each man she gave JJ and Emily earlier.

Morgan mulled this over in his mind. He glanced at the back of the photo at the date, then looked at Garcia. "Y'know, since this was taken in a World War Two POW camp apparently, I would think clothes weren't exactly at a premium. I mean, maybe this Andrew Carter only had one uniform to his name. If his officer's uniform wore out, he might have had no choice, and had to dress in the only uniform available. Or…does he had a twin?"

"Not so, my love. Lieutenant Andrew Carter was an only child. Besides, this couldn't be him anyway."

"Why not?" Morgan asked.

"The POW camp they're in was strictly for noncoms. Why would a Lieutenant in the military be in a prison camp for noncoms?"

"Huh…" Morgan uttered. "If that's true, then why is an American Colonel in a camp for noncoms?"

Garcia shrugged. "That is the sixty-four thousand dollar question. But that's not my problem."

"You left out this other guy with the mustache. Who's he?"

"That is Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe."

Morgan glanced at the others warily. "If Baby-Girl is doin' somethin' for Hotch, what are both of you doin' here?"

"Research," Prentiss commented innocently.

"What research?"

"Man research," JJ added with a grin. "Vital statistics and such. Call it a fact-finding mission."

Morgan crossed his arms across his broad chest. "JJ, you're married. I don't think Will would enjoy you checkin' out other men."

"Morgan, I may be married, but I'm not dead."

"And what about you, Princess?" Morgan asked Prentiss.

"Hey, I'm single. I can look all I want. And believe me when I say I am definitely looking at these guys, especially the one in the Colonel's uniform. There's something about a man in a uniform that is soooooooooo sexy."

"And how 'bout you, Garcia? You better not be checkin' out anybody."

"I was busy checking out Sergeant Kinchloe. He is such a hunk, and that mustache is so darn cute."

"What's so great about a mustache?" Morgan asked stroking his goatee. "I bet it's not even real."

JJ and Emily looked at each other. "Narcissist," they said in unison. They loved teasing their co-worker about being a ladies' man. (1)

"Besides, you don't know anything about this guy," Morgan growled. "He could be a serial killer for all you know."

As JJ and Emily broke out in laughter, Garcia took the photo from Morgan's hands and tossed it onto her table. She grinned. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy?"

"I am not jealous."

JJ chuckled as she stared at Morgan. "You are so busted, Derek Morgan."

"Yeah," Prentiss smirked staring at Morgan. "Jealous over a man's mustache. How lame is that?"

"For the last time, I am _not_ jealous," Morgan huffed.

"Whatever," JJ remarked. She checked her watch, then looked at Penelope. "Pen, can we _please_ go to lunch now?"

"But of course." With an amused grin, the tech analyst turned and placed a palm on Morgan's chest over his heart.

"Never fear, my love, you will always be my hero."

And with Morgan watching, the three women exited Garcia's office leaving Morgan alone shaking his head. _Women!_

* * *

(1) A narcissist is someone who has a broad pattern of grandiosity, and a need for admiration. The females on his team are always teasing Morgan with this because of his reputation of seeing himself as a ladies man.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: For purposes of this chapter, the fictious 'Major Campbell' was made real.**

 **Chapter 6**

Hotch had lost all track of time while he read and signed reports before being interrupted by someone knocking on his office door.

"Come in," he announced not looking up as he signed the report in front of him. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up to see who it was. After he completed scrawling his signature, he lifted his head while tossing the file into his completed box. He smiled when he spotted his best friend leaning against the doorframe, a hand resting on the door handle. "Hey, Dave."

"Hey, yourself," Rossi replied with a grin. "I'm heading out to lunch at that Italian deli that reopened down the street. They make the best Italian subs you've ever tasted. Trust me, once you've eaten one, you become addicted."

Hotch chuckled at his friend's excitement while talking about the food. He had eaten there once, and had to agree that the food was delicious.

"You sure it's the food, and not the new girl working the counter?" Hotch asked slyly. Everyone knew of Rossi's penchant for the ladies. After all, the older man was the reason behind the Bureau's Non-Fraternization rules.

Rossi grinned amusedly. "Let's just say it's a little bit of both and call it even. So what d'ya say? You wanna join me? It's lunch time anyway. We can have a couple of subs, a beer, all while I school you on fine the art of dating. Besides, she has a sister who's single and has a young son like you. You can compare notes. In fact, you play your cards right, she might give you her sister's phone number." There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed by Hotch.

Hotch cringed at that last part. Rossi had been trying to set him up with women to get him back out into the dating game as he had been a widower for nearly three years. He understood the older man meant well, but Hotch still felt it was too soon to reenter the dating world. And truth be told, he felt he was cheating on Haley. And there was Jack to consider. Also, not many women had been able to tolerate his job and the crazy hours he worked.

"Can I have a raincheck? Besides, I brought my lunch. But thanks for asking."

"What'd you bring anyway?"

"Egg salad on rye," Hotch explained as he opened another file.

"Egg salad on rye?" Rossi feigned disgust. "You would turn down the most finely sliced Provolone cheese and Capicola for egg salad on rye?"

Hotch chuckled and glanced upward. "'Fraid so."

Rossi sighed and shook his head. "Aaron. Aaron. Aaron. What am I gonna do with you?"

"How about letting me get back to work? These files aren't going to sign themselves."

"Fine. I'll leave you to your egg salad and reading while I give Sophia your best." He started to close the door.

"Sophia?"

Rossi smirked. "The new girl behind the counter."

Since he got no reaction out of his best friend, Rossi backed out of the door pulling it closed behind him. After a few minutes passed, Hotch let out a deep breath, closed the folder, and put his pen back in its holder. He pushed the unsigned file aside, opened the top side drawer of his desk, and removed his coffee cup. After he got to his feet, he left his office, hurried down the steps of the catwalk, and headed in the direction of the break area. He glanced around, and noticed all members of his team had left to go to lunch except for himself and Spencer Reid. He shook his head seeing the youngest member of his team hard at work on his files.

"Reid, why don't you go have lunch? Everybody else seems to have gone."

Reid looked around at the empty nearby desks, before he looked at his boss. He often got so involved in what he was doing that he became oblivious to everything and everyone else. "I didn't realize it was so late. Hey, Hotch…"

The older man paused. "Yeah?"

"Why are you still here?"

"I brought a sandwich. I just wanted to get a cup of coffee. Go on and get outta here. That file will still be here when you come back."

"I can't. Garcia promised to bring me back something."

"Okay then. But make sure you eat something. You're too thin to afford to skip a meal," the older man teased. Truth of the matter was that the entire team thought Reid was too thin and needed to eat more. But in reality, their youngest member was perfectly healthy, and had often had to explain that his metabolism didn't allow for him to gain weight.

When his youngest smiled at him, Hotch continued to the break area. After pouring himself a cup of hot coffee, he returned to his office and locked his door. He sat the cup down on his desk and sat down in his chair. Once seated, he grabbed his briefcase and opened it, removing the sandwich first, and then the journal.

* * *

 _ **(Stalag 13, Late February, 1944):**_

When Hogan returned to the barracks, he found the members of his team seated at the table waiting for him. It was obvious by the looks on their faces his men had been listening in on the conversation in Klink's office on the coffee pot. They all bombarded him with questions at once.

Hogan held up both hands. "Hold it, guys! Just hold it a minute. I'm not sure yet he is anything except what he appears to be and that's one of ours." Once his men quieted down, the officer wrapped his arms around himself, eyes narrowed and eyebrows knitted. He needed to find out more before he reached a decision about the new man. "Kinch, contact London. Find out what you can about Staff Sergeant Aaron D. Hotchner, serial number 0874508."

"Right away, Colonel," Kinch replied getting to his feet heading toward the double-bunk in the corner of the barracks.

"Carter, once I get Klink to release 'im, I want you and Newkirk to search his clothes when he takes a shower. Check for any phony labels, and make sure you check the soles of his shoes to make sure they're American made."

"You got it, boy…I mean Colonel…" Carter said enthusiastically as Newkirk rolled his eyes at his best friend's misstatement.

"What about me, Colonel?" asked a grinning Frenchman. "What do I do?"

With a sly grin, Hogan wrapped an arm around the smaller man's shoulders. "LeBeau, my boy, I have a special task for you."

LeBeau rubbed his hands together eager with anticipation. "What is it, Mon Colonel?"

"They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. But in this case, I bet the way to a man's mouth is through his stomach as well. So, I want you to prepare all of Sergeant Hotchner's meals and take them to 'im. Engage 'im in conversation and see what you can find out."

The eager smile on his face now gone, LeBeau glared up into the face of his commanding officer who stood with an amused grin on his handsome face. After a few seconds, LeBeau sighed in resignation, and nodded his head.

"Oui, Colonel. I will do as you ask on one condition."

"Name it," Hogan replied.

"After the war is over, I want the Croix de Guerre for all the slaving I do over a hot stove," LeBeau teased. (1)

Hogan smiled knowing the Frenchman was joking. "I'll speak personally to deGaulle about it."

That said, Hogan and his men set about their assignments. Later in the day, Kinch emerged from the tunnel with a reply from London. Hogan, Newkirk and Carter were sitting at the table with LeBeau preparing lunch at the pot belly stove. The radioman hit the hidden mechanism on the side of the upper bedframe, and watched the wooden bedframe/ladder rise, and the lower bunk drop covering the tunnel entrance. He approached the table and handed Hogan a folded slip of paper.

"Got an answer from London, Colonel," he replied watching Hogan unfold the paper and scan the message.

"What's it say?" asked Carter leaning forward resting his forearms on the table. Is he one of ours? One of theirs? Or one of theirs pretending to be one of ours?"

Newkirk rolled his eyes and studied his friend. "Andrew, you wanna run that by us again?"

Carter gazed at Newkirk. "Just what I said. He's either one of ours, one of theirs, or one of theirs pretending to be one of ours. Y'know. Ours being the Allies. Theirs being the Germans."

Newkirk shook his head. "We know what y'mean, mate. Now quit your natterin' so the Colonel can talk."

Carter appeared miffed. "Excuse me for asking a serious question."

Newkirk was about to respond when Hogan loudly cleared his throat getting their attention. It was when he had their attention that he finally spoke.

"Everybody pipe down and listen. London says Staff Sergeant Aaron Daniel Hotchner is exactly what he claims to be," Hogan read from the message. "And despite being the same rank as Kinch, Kinch outranks him by date-of-service. He was born in Enid, Oklahoma, and likes girls, playing the drums, and studying law in his spare time. Plans on attending law school after the war. Served in the Eighth Air Force as a radioman." Hogan arched an eyebrow. "Took part in something called the Big Week." (2)

"What's the Big Week?" asked Carter.

"All London would say is that it was an operation designed to destroy German fighters and synthetic fuel plants during daylight raids," Kinch explained. "It seems Hotchner's plane was one of several that didn't return from the mission."

"He sounds okay to me, Colonel," said Carter seeming to accept the information at face value.

"Hmmm,' Hogan murmured massaging his jaw appearing lost in thought. "Sounds good on the surface, but we've been fooled with Gestapo spies and plants in the past to try and catch us. Fortunately we caught them all before any harm was done. So until we clear him completely, he knows nothing of our operation. Nothing. I'll have Klink release him tomorrow and have him assigned to our barracks where we can keep an eye on him."

And that was exactly what Hogan and his men did beginning the following morning. After morning roll call, Hogan managed with much flattery and ego-inflating, to convince Klink to release the new prisoner, and assign him to Barracks Two. Hogan promptly introduced the man to his main team without identifying them as such. So to Hotchner, these were just ordinary prisoners. After introductions, Hogan grabbed an empty coffee cup, poured it half full of coffee, and handed it to Hotchner. He then sat on the edge of the table, with LeBeau and Kinch seated side-by-side on Carter's lower bunk near the door. Carter leaned against one of the wooden posts supporting the upper bunk with hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. And Newkirk sat on the bench with an elbow on the table.

"So, Sergeant, how do you like it here at Casa Klink?" asked Hogan innocently.

Hotchner didn't know if he was being tested or not, but had decided it best not to lie. But not to be honest either wouldn't help him either though not knowing why. After all, the officer had gotten him released from the cooler as promised. He simply shrugged his shoulders and took a drink of coffee.

"It's okay, I guess. I mean…I've only seen the ground floor apartment." He took another drink of coffee. "Can't say much of the landlord though."

All the men chuckled at Hotchner's comment about their Kommandant.

"The bloody Bald Eagle of Stalag 13?" asked Newkirk. "He's harmless enough, mate, as far as landlords go. To be perfectly honest, chum, he's scared of his own shadow he is."

"Yeah…" Carter chuckled. "It's a good thing he doesn't know what's really…owww!" he cried out after LeBeau struck his leg before he could finish his sentence. He stared at the Frenchman while rubbing his leg. "What'd you do that for, LeBeau?"

Kinch glared up at the younger man. "Andrew, did anybody ever tell you children should be seen and not heard?"

"What'd I say?" Carter saw Hogan's harsh stare. "Sorry, sir," he apologized hanging his head realizing he had almost said too much.

Hotchner's dark eyes shifted between the two men as he noticed the sudden tension on the younger man's part. He looked at the Colonel.

"Is there something I'm not supposed to know, sir?" he asked.

Hogan sighed and kept his face relaxed. "Not at all, Sergeant. It's just Carter acting like a little kid which he does sometimes. Especially when there's a new prisoner."

"Oui," LeBeau agreed. "Andre sometimes becomes how would you Americans say…over-enthusiastic."

"That's me mate, Andrew," Newkirk said with a chuckle. "Running off at the mouth as usual."

"All right, guys, pipe down, and leave Carter alone," Hogan ordered. He faced the new man. "So you were a radioman with the Eighth Air Force?"

"Yes, sir, Colonel."

"How's Major Campbell? He still the commander of the Eighth?" (3) Hogan had caught many a traitor asking about the imaginary Major.

Hotchner swallowed another drink of coffee. "Yes, sir, Colonel, except uh…well…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "He's still my commanding officer despite getting into a bit of trouble."

"What trouble?" asked Kinch crossing his arms across his chest. His eyes met Hogan's and an unspoken message was passed between them. Apparently Hotchner was a phony and had been planted in their barracks to spy on them.

Hotchner looked embarrassed. 'Uh…he was caught in a closet with a WAC Captain."

"Ouch!" said Hogan feigning shock. "I can't believe Major Campbell would do something like that." He shook his head. "Who caught 'im?"

"The girl's father who just happens to be a three-star General. Apparently this was the first time they were caught. Turns out she was about twelve weeks pregnant. The General uh…convinced the major to marry his daughter and make an honest woman out of her."

Hogan looked at the new prisoner and sighed. "Okay, Hotchner, why don't you go take a shower while you still can. We'll be here when you get back."

"Sure thing, Colonel." Hotchner finished his coffee and sat the cup on the table. He walked over to the double bunk in the corner, and snatched a towel off the upper bunk. Watching him leave, Hogan looked at Newkirk and Carter and tilted his head in the direction the new man had gone.

"Let's go, Andrew," Newkirk said as he got to his feet and walked away with Carter right behind him.

Kinch folded his arms across his chest. "So what d'ya think, Colonel?"

"Ask me that question later, Kinch," Hogan replied getting to his feet, grabbed his own coffee cup and filled it. "Meanwhile, check out his story with London."

"Right away, Colonel," replied Kinch as he hurried away.

Hogan removed his crush cap, ran a hand over his thick black hair, and put his cap back on his head.

* * *

Hogan faced Kinch when he returned a few minutes later.

"Well?" Hogan asked with arms wrapped around himself.

"I checked his story with London like you asked," Kinch explained. "And he's telling the truth, sir. And you'll never guess what else I found out. There really is a Major Campbell who is Hotchner's commanding officer and did uh…run into a problem with a General's daughter."

Hogan's jaw dropped with surprise. "And all this time I thought Major Campbell was just a figment of my imagination."

Just then, Newkirk and Carter returned to the barracks and faced their commanding officer.

"Well?"

"There's no phony labels, Gov'nor."

"And there's nothing odd about his shoes either, Colonel. The soles are American made all right."

"Where is he now?" asked LeBeau.

Carter looked at Newkirk sheepishly and hung his head. Newkirk chewed his lower lip and shifted his eyes away from his friends and commanding officer.

Hogan looked back-and-forth between his two men. He suspected they had done something to the newbie. "Okay, what did you guys do?" Neither man answered. Hogan looked at Carter.

"Carter?"

"It was Newkirk's idea," Carter complained in defense of himself.

Newkirk rolled his eyes and stared at the younger man. "Ruddy good friend you turned out to be, mate," he said sarcastically.

Hogan focused on Newkirk. "You want to tell me or need I make it an order?"

"No, sir. It's just…that is….well, I sorta told him before his shower he needed to be checked out by the camp medic. Told 'im you musta forgot to mention it, you havin' so much on your mind and such. Anyway, I sent 'im to see Wilson."

Hogan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on, and he hated getting a headache so early in the morning. When he opened his eyes again, he stared at the Englander. "Why did you send Hotchner to see Wilson?"

"Blimey, Gov'nor, I thought at least you'd understand me reasoning."

"Why don't you explain it so all of us can understand?" said Kinch.

Newkirk shrugged his shoulders. "I just figured it'd be a good way to get the blitter outta the way for a few minutes. Just in case the Colonel needed more time to check 'im out is all. Besides, Wilson said he'd keep him busy for ten minutes or so with his examination."

"Good thinking," Hogan gave him a nod of approval. "By the way, Kinch verified the story about Major Campbell and it was all true." Carter and Newkirk with their jaws hanging open, looked at the Colonel as if he'd lost his mind.

"The Colonel's right, we have to come up with a new story to trip the Krauts up on," Kinch said. All the men busted out laughing.

And as time went on, that's exactly what was done. After his 'examination' by the camp medic followed by his shower, Hogan and company continued to check the man out. They questioned Hotchner about everything from the population of Enid, Oklahoma, to what two teams played in the 1943 World Series, and who won the series. The man answered all questions put to him with no hesitancy or deception. So after a full week of this, Hogan ushered his core unit outside the barracks one day. He put a foot on the edge of the wooden bench, leaned forward and rested both arms across his thighs. He studied his team carefully. (4)

"Okay, we have a decision to make, guys. Do any of you not believe Hotchner can be trusted? Kinch?"

The black man was sitting on the bench. He was leaning his back against the wall with crossed arms, staring out into the compound.

"I can't find any reason not to, sir. I mean, he's passed every test and answered every question we've thrown at him honestly."

"Carter?"

The younger man shrugged. "Sounds like a pretty good guy to me, Colonel." A lopsided grin appeared. "Besides, anybody who knew who won the 1943 World Series has to be one of ours."

Hogan smirked at the younger man's innocence. "Newkirk?"

"He's proven himself true-blue, Gov'nor, if you ask me."

"LeBeau?"

"Oui, I agree with Pierre, Mon Colonel. I say we can trust him."

Hogan stood straight. "I'm still not completely sure yet," he said.

"Blimey, Gov'nor. What would satisfy ya? A bleedin' blood test?"

"No. But we need to watch him when he isn't aware we are to see how he handles himself." Hogan then pulled down the ribbed bottom part of his leather jacket. "If he proves himself, we might consider about adding him to the team."

* * *

(1)Croix de Guerre is a military decoration of France.

(2)Operation 'The Big Week' was a series of daylight raids designed to destroy German fighters and synthetic fuel plants to weaken the German resistance prior to Operation Pointblank also known as D-Day on June 6th.

(3) The incident involving 'Major Campbell and the WAC captain' was made up and used by Hogan in the show's pilot episode called THE INFORMER, Season 1, as a means by which to test the truthfulness of a new prisoner.

(4)The 1943 World Series was between the Yankees and the St. Louis Cardinals with the Yankees winning the series.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Here's hoping everybody has a joyous and happy holiday and New Years.**

 **Chapter 7**

 _ **(Flashback - Early March, 1944):**_

And that was exactly what Hogan and his men did for the next week. Everywhere Sergeant Hotchner went, one of Hogan's men was not far behind him. They all watched him closely as he interacted with other prisoners and guards, but stayed far enough away not to be detected by the man. Hotchner did his best to keep out of trouble and obey the camp rules. By the end of week, Hogan's mind had been made up finally. He would have the young man join his team.

Hogan gave the man the guided tour of the tunnels and their operation, amused by the man's amazement at what he was shown. After that, the officer had Kinch teach him to work the radio and learn the codes when contacting London, as well as the codenames of their underground contacts. The colonel believed after he became familiar with the radio that he could then learn other facets of the operation. Eventually, Hogan hoped, he'd be able to send the new man out on missions from London. In fact, for a while he had been thinking about expanding his team by an extra man, and Hotchner seemed like the perfect fit. But his eagerness and quickness at learning things wasn't all that impressed Hogan.

What really impressed him was the man's uncanny ability to 'read' people. He could figure out what people were going to do before they did it. And what amazed Hogan and the men even more, was that Hotchner always read people correctly. And although Hogan wouldn't easily admit it to his men, nor even to himself, he found this ability Hotchner had helpful but still somewhat creepy.

* * *

One day, Hogan was alone in the barracks studying a map of the area the airdrop was to take place. With a sigh, he rested one foot on the bench with both arms across his thigh, hands hanging over the sides. He realized the location for the drop was in an area with sparse foliage for camouflage. Also, it was a distance from the tunnel opening concealed in the tree stump just outside camp.

His original decision was to send Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau to pick up the supplies. Carter had discovered he needed timers and caps as he was running short after their mission several weeks earlier. And Sergeant Joe Wilson, the camp medic, desperately needed medical supplies. The last group of escapees they took in, several of whom were injured, caused him to run short of many supplies. Hogan decided to combine the lists, and had Kinch get in touch with London who arranged an air drop in twenty-four hours.

Suddenly a twisted grin appeared on the officer's face. He would add Hotchner to the party. After all, this was a simple task just signaling a plane, picking up an air drop, and bringing everything back to camp. Mostly Hogan told himself it would do the young man good to get out of camp, and show him that he trusted him. Satisfied, Hogan stood up straight, picked up the map and re-folded it. As he did so, the barracks door opened and the man in question walked in alone. The officer glanced at the man with a grin.

"Just the man I wanna see," the colonel commented.

"Something wrong, sir?" asked Hotchner nervously, afraid he might have inadvertently done something which annoyed the officer.

"Not at all." The officer stuck the folded map inside his inner jacket pocket then draped a friendly arm around the man's shoulders. Both men walked in the direction of Hogan's private quarters. "In fact, your timing's perfect. How would you like to leave camp?"

Hotchner's eyes widened. Whatever he was expecting this wasn't it. "You mean escape, Colonel? But…but I thought you had a no-escape policy?"

Hogan chuckled. "I do. What I meant was how would you like to leave camp and go with a couple of the guys to help bring back supplies being airdropped from London?"

Hotchner froze. "But sir, are you sure about this? I mean, I'm still new here. Wouldn't you feel better having another of your regulars go with the guys?"

The Colonel's face became serious. "I could, but I chose you instead. You deserve a break, sergeant. Besides, you've earned it. Also, this'll give you a taste of being outside the wire. And the job's simple. I need someone to help LeBeau back up Carter and Newkirk while they bring back the supplies."

Hotchner grinned like a little kid. "You can count on me, Colonel," he said. "When is the airdrop?"

"It's at 2200 hours tonight. You, Carter, Newkirk and LeBeau be ready to leave here at nine p.m. You have a distance to walk to reach the location where the drop will be made." (1)

"Yes, sir." He noticed Hogan about to enter his private quarters alone, but the officer paused before opening the door, and turned toward the younger man with arms wrapped around himself. "Is something bothering you, sergeant?"

Hotchner looked at the floor with one hand stuffed in his pants pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck. "Kinda, sir. In fact, something's been bugging me since I came here, and nobody will tell me anything. Whenever I ask, they uh…they all tell me I should ask you about it."

"What is it?" Hogan asked, curious.

It was then the door of the barracks opened behind them, both men looked around and saw a few prisoners enter. Hotchner faced the American officer. "Sir, can we talk in private?"

"Sure."

Hogan opened the door to his quarters and allowed the enlisted man to walk past him and followed him inside, closing the door behind him. He gestured to the lower bunk and the sergeant took a seat, waiting. Hogan grabbed the chair from behind his desk which consisted of a chair and a wooden table, turned it around, and sat down, arms across the back of the chair. "Now, what do you want to ask me?" He sensed hesitation on Hotchner's part and grinned mischievously. "Don't be afraid, sergeant. I promise I don't bite despite what you might have been told."

But this didn't seem to relax the noncom one bit. "I remember when you visited me in the cooler when I came here, and I asked you how an officer got assigned to a camp for us enlisted men. You avoided answering me, and I'm still curious. I mean, you seem to be the only ranking officer here except for Klink."

Hogan smiled warmly at the younger man. "And you're curious as to how I came to be assigned here instead of a camp for Allied officers." He sighed. "How I came to be here is no big secret. It's just that I don't go around advertising it. LeBeau, Carter, Kinch and Newkirk know, and I don't mind telling you." He took in a deep breath, and let it out through his nose. "After I was shot down, I kept trying to escape every chance I got." He chuckled. "I guess the Krauts got tired of chasing after me and bringing me back. So, they figured the best way to keep me locked up was to assign me to a camp where I would be in command of others. They figured as a commander I wouldn't escape and leave the men under me to fend for themselves. And they were right for once. I would never leave the men here on their own."

Hotchner nodded his understanding. "Does Klink know what's going on under his camp?"

Hogan snickered despite trying to control his laughter at the question. "Are you kidding me?" he asked arching an eyebrow. "Klink couldn't find his monocle without help. We keep him around because it's good for business. Our business. And as long as he's in charge, we can run our operation freely. So I don't allow escapes. It's to keep the Bald Eagle's perfect record of no escapes in tact. Does that answer your question?" he added with a smile.

Hotchner's smile showed his dimples. "Yes, sir. But don't be surprised if I have more questions to ask you. There's so much more I want to find out about the operation."

"I'll try and answer any questions you may have that any of the men can't or won't answer for you." Hogan got up off the chair the same time the sergeant got to his feet. "So unless there's something else, I have things to take care of before tonight."

"Yes, sir. And thank you, sir." Hotchner nodded to the officer before he left the small office leaving the Colonel alone.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch stopped reading at this point. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before opening them again. He discovered he still had twenty minutes remaining before lunchtime ended. So he resumed reading, the rest of his lunch seemingly forgotten now.

* * *

 _ **(Flashback – March, 1944):**_

The rest of the day went by without any further incidents. The only thing that happened was that Hogan had gone over where the men were to meet the plane. Those selected were excited about going on the assignment. But Kinch, although he understood the Colonel's reasoning, was still disappointed not to be going with them, and Hogan understood that. But the Colonel wanted…no, needed Kinch to keep him sane while the others were gone. He hated to admit, even to himself, that he was a nervous wreck whenever any of his men were outside camp, and especially if that man was Newkirk. The Englander had a way of finding trouble even when he didn't go looking for it, and that gave Hogan gray hairs.

Even on a mission as simple as this one, there was always the possibility a Kraut patrol might spot the plane and see the drop. But they needed those supplies.

So when nine p.m. rolled around, Newkirk, Carter, Hotchner and LeBeau climbed up the ladder, and left the tunnel via the tree stump entrance/exit above them. Once the lid was closed, Hogan sighed and put both hands on his slim hips.

"They'll be all right, Colonel," Kinch explained quietly studying his commanding officer's face as both men watched the quartet leave. He knew Hogan was worried and it showed on his face. "I mean, I know Hotchner's a new man, but Newkirk, Carter and LeBeau are old hands at this. They'll keep an eye on 'im while doing their job. And they're all gonna come back safe. So try not to worry."

The officer pursed his lips and glanced at his second-in-command. "Whenever Newkirk is involved all I do is worry. He's like a trouble magnet. Trouble has a way of finding him." He shook his head. "I just wish I didn't have this feeling something's gonna go wrong tonight."

Kinch studied Hogan for a few seconds. "Hotchner is inexperienced I know, sir, but he's cool under pressure, and thinks quickly in situations from what I've seen. And who knows? If he does well tonight, maybe we can use him on more missions. I'm gonna think positive if you don't mind, sir. Maybe you should too."

A slight smile appeared on the Colonel's face. He wrapped his arms around himself. "I sure hope you're right this time," he said.

* * *

It was just before ten p.m. when the four men hunkered down in a sparsely wooded area. Hotchner and LeBeau looked around, weapons in hand, keeping their eyes and ears open for any signs of German patrols. Newkirk and Carter, meanwhile, watched the sky for any sign on the plane. The men were dressed in their 'blacks,' being black pants and turtleneck sweaters, with grease smeared on their faces to help camouflage their appearances.

The sky was a bit overcast making viewing difficult but not impossible.

"Boy, I sure hope we can spot the plane when it signals," Carter commented squinting as he looked at the sky. "It's awful dark out."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Blimey, Carter, stop lookin' at the negative side of things, will 'ya? We'll see the bleedin' plane."

Carter glanced at his best friend. "We'd better else that Kraut patrol we saw is gonna see the airdrop before we do. And boy, I'd hate to tell the Colonel we lost the supplies to a German patrol because we…."

"Y'know, Andrew…" Newkirk smirked staring at the younger man. "Sometimes you take all the bleedin' fun outta life."

Hotchner leaned toward the diminutive Frenchman standing next to him. "Are they always like this?" he whispered gesturing to Newkirk and Carter.

LeBeau snorted. "Qui. Pierre and Andre fight like…how do you Americans say…dogs and cats. But each would give his life to protect the other. Ils sont comme des freres."

"What?" asked Hotchner confused.

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "I said they are like brothers."

Hotchner nodded understanding finally. Suddenly, the roar of an airplane engine could be heard overhead. Newkirk tapped Carter's shoulder and then pointed up to the sky.

"There's the plane! Give the ruddy signal"

"Okay."

Carter, adjusting the flashlight in his hands, flashed white, blue, white to alert the plane. It wasn't long before the plane flashed its response: white three times to which the response was given. Shortly afterward, a parachute appeared with two small wooden crates one on top of the other attached, and began its descent. Within seconds, the crates struck the ground a short distance away from the men.

"C'mon!" Newkirk ordered as he and Carter rushed forward with the others behind them. Within seconds they all reached the crates with the parachute dangling from a low branch of a tree. With Hotchner and LeBeau standing watch, Newkirk quickly released the parachute, and helped Carter scan the crates. "Doesn't seem to be any damage," the Englander commented with a faint smile as he patted the top crate.

Everybody suddenly froze when there was the rustling sound in the foliage followed by the voices of Germans not too far away. Newkirk suspected that Kraut patrol they noticed earlier might have seen the parachute's descent. Hotchner and LeBeau turned in the direction from where the voices filtered, weapons aimed in front of them at the ready.

"Those are Germans," said a wide-eyed Carter staring in the direction from where the voices had come.

Newkirk glanced momentarily over his shoulder and then quickly grabbed the top crate which wasn't heavy. "It's amazin' how you always state the obvious, Andrew," he said sarcastically. "And you also better believe they ain't gonna welcome us with open arms when they get here," he added in a whisper. "So stop your natterin' and grab that other crate so we can get the ruddy hell outta here before the Krauts get here."

The young sergeant picked up the other crate, and followed Newkirk with Hotchner bringing up the rear and LeBeau in front leading them. The German voices were closer.

Suddenly a gunshot whizzed past Hotchner and struck the tree just behind his head. He swore softly at how close it came. Neither he nor LeBeau wanted to return fire as it would draw not only these Germans to their location, but might bring others as well. So they kept moving in the direction of the tree stump.

"Come!" a German voice ordered with authority. "This way! I heard a sound coming from this direction!" The men to whom the voices belong were getting closer.

"It's a good thing these bloody crates ain't heavy!" Newkirk said. "Step on it, Carter!" he urged moving faster.

"I'm stepping. I'm stepping," Carter huffed.

"Less talkin' and more walkin'," Newkirk muttered. "How much further, Louie?"

"A little bit further than normal since we had to take the long way, Mon Ami," the Frenchman replied without stopping. The four men kept moving ahead as quickly as they possibly could, mindful that the German patrol was close behind them.

* * *

Only a few short minutes later, the four-man patrol came into view scanning the sparse foliage before there was the sound of a snapping twig just ahead of them. Two of the guards at once aimed their rifles in the direction of the noise and fired. The four men grinned evilly when they heard a sound indicating at least one of the shots had hit its target.

"He's wounded! We have him now!" the one in charge shouted as the men ran in the direction Hogan's men had gone. "This way! We will finish him off before he gets away!"

The lead guard suddenly motioned for his men to stop, and knelt on one knee peering into the brush after he spotted something. He pointed in the distance. "There he is!" He then aimed his rifle carefully, and squeezing off a shot, hit his prey point-blank in the head. A smirk appeared seeing his victim fall to the ground. "I got him."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch wanted to keep reading but the knocking on his door made him pause. Growling at having to stop, he bent the edge of the page and hastily shoved the journal into his middle desk drawer. He grabbed his pen and pulled a case file close to him hoping he would look like he'd been working through lunch.

"Come in," he ordered looking up at the door, waiting.

* * *

(1) In military time, 2200 hours is ten p.m.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Hotch's eyes gave nothing away when the door opened and Rossi casually walked into his office. But despite that, the older man suspected his friend was putting on a front for him. So without asking permission, the older man plopped down in a chair in front of his friend's desk and crossed his legs. He folded his hands in his lap and stared at the younger man.

"How did I know it was you?" asked Hotchner with a reserved expression.

Rossi shrugged. "I have no idea. Perhaps it's my Italian ancestry. I'm sneaky." He glanced at the half-eaten sandwich and half-filled cup of coffee on the desk before turning back to the younger _man_. "I see you didn't finish your lunch. That tells me something else occupied you instead. Want to tell me what?"

"I simply got involved in a case file during lunch. I wish you'd stop assuming something's wrong. I'm fine. Besides, we're not supposed to profile each other, remember."

"Uh-huh. And I'm on my honeymoon with Strauss," was the sarcastic retort. "C'mon, Hotch. Who do you think you're talking to here? You're my best friend and I want to help you. So talk to me. What's going on with you?"

Hotch paused as he tapped his pen on the desk as he mulled something over in his mind. Rossi was an ex-Marine. And since the journal dealt with World War 2, he might be able to help or have some insight. This made Rossi the best choice. He breathed out through his nose and put down his pen.

"All right," he replied opening his middle desk drawer. "What I'm going to show you stays for now between us. I might let the rest of the team in on it later if need be." He handed Rossi the journal. "There were ten journals in a box sent to me by my late mother a while back shortly after my dad's death. I had no idea what was in them, but I thought I'd check them out to see if they were something I could pass on to Jack. I started reading this first one so I can't tell you much. With a nod of his head, Rossi's eyes narrowed as he studied the cover of the journal. "FAIRYTALES OF A PAPA BEAR," he read and started thumbing through the pages. "The title is certainly conducive to it being for a child. Any idea who wrote this?"

"Yes. My grandfather. It appears he was a prisoner-of-war during WW2 and was assigned to a Stalag 13."

"So you've been reading during your lunch hour instead of working as you told me earlier."

"Pretty much," Hotch said sheepishly.

The older man examined a random page of the journal. "Hmm. Corporals LeBeau and Newkirk, Sergeants Carter and Kinchloe, and a Colonel Robert Hogan." He looked thoughtful for a few minutes. "I'm not sure, but I've heard the name Hogan before but I can't remember where." As he closed the book, he stared at his friend. "You find out anything?"

"Nothing yet. But I did find a photo inside of six men, one of whom is my grandfather, and one I suspect is this Colonel Hogan. I have no idea who the others are. I gave Garcia the photo and asked her to work her magic as Morgan puts it. I hope she finds something."

"Who or what is this Papa Bear your grandfather mentioned in the title?"

"I have no idea so far."

Rossi handed the journal back to Hotch. "You read anything interesting so far?" he gestured toward the book with his eyes.

Hotch took a deep breath. "What I've read sounds exactly like the title. It sounds too fantastic to be true; like a fairy-tale."

"How so?"

"Well, and again I based this on the little I've read. There seems to be what can best be described as an underground network for lack of a better description operated by this Colonel Hogan beneath Stalag 13. I mean, from what I recall of WW2 from my school days, there's no way such thing could even be remotely possible."

Rossi pyramided his fingers in front of his face. "I remember you telling me your grandfather was an avid storyteller when you and Sean were kids. You think this might be one of his make-believe stories written by him?"

Hotch shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "Possibly. I mean, there's no way it can be real. No, that's not exactly true. I can't really say for sure one way or the other. It could very well be a fairy-tale mixed with a touch of reality."

"You mean because of this so-called underground network beneath Stalag 13 along with your grandfather being assigned to a prisoner-of-war camp."

"Exactly." Hotch was so glad Rossi understood and he didn't have to go into detail.

Rossi nodded and grinned. "You're gonna ask for my help in checking it out, aren't you?"

Hotch glared at his mentor but not in anger. "You're an ass, I hope you realize that."

The older man smirked. "But you still love me anyway. So, how can I help?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Hotch told him. "At least until I hear from Garcia anyway. But you were in the Marines so I thought perhaps…"

Rossi smirked and held up a hand. "Say no more. Let me know what kitten finds and I'll put a few feelers out and see what I can find out for you."

"Thanks, Dave. I mean it."

Rossi chuckled as he started to get out of the chair. "Don't thank me. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Promise me when you're finished reading it you let me borrow it so I can read it."

Hotch chuckled. "Sure. No problem. Besides, Jack is too young right now to read them. If they're all right, I'll save them until he's older."

"Good idea," the older man replied as he reached for the door handle.

"Dave…"

Rossi paused and turned his head. "What is it?"

Hotch pursed his lips. "I just had a thought. Maybe I might have these journals published before I give them to Jack. In fact, even if the stories are not real they could be interesting for others to read."

The older man nodded. "Tell you what. After you finish reading everything and we check everything out, if you still want to do it, I'll put you in touch with my publisher."

"You don't have to do that…"

"It's no trouble, believe me. Glad to do it." He turned the door handle and opened the door. "Come see me when you're heard from Garcia."

* * *

 _ **(Flashback – March, 1944):**_

The four German guards gathered around the body of the deceased with rifles pointed downward. They all could tell their victim was dead, its eyes with their vacant stare and a bullet hole right above them. One of the guards, studying the body chuckled as he looked at the others.

"We got him," He said gleefully. He smiled at the patrol leader. "Tonight we have fresh meat for dinner."

The patrol leader, a sergeant, smiled a twisted smile as he placed the rifle strap over his shoulder, and reached for the knife attached to his belt. "I say we stop here for tonight, and set up camp. I will slice up the meat and we will eat until we're full." He knelt down and began to cut up the dead deer at his feet.

* * *

Hogan's men, now believing they had left the German patrol behind them, stopped to rest for a few minutes before heading out again.

Newkirk and Carter carefully concealed the crates in the heavy foliage before sitting down beside them, while Hotchner and LeBeau continued to stand watch despite kneeling down themselves.

"Boy I'm tired," Carter huffed.

Newkirk looked at the younger man, annoyed. "Yeah, well, don't get too ruddy comfy, mate. We can only rest for a few minutes and then get movin' again. The Gov'nor's gonna be worried enough." He checked his watch. "We shoulda been back ten minutes ago."

LeBeau rolled his eyes at the Englander. "Of course Mon Colonel would be worried with _you_ outside the camp. He knows you always get into trouble."

"Now hold on a bleedin' moment. Who are you talkin' 'bout gettin' into trouble all the time? Can I help it if the bleedin' Krauts take a fancy to me? Besides, you shouldn't talk seein' as you can't even speak bloody English and…"

"Knock it off, both of you," stated Carter with as serious an expression as any of them had ever seen. "It doesn't matter who gets into trouble the most. What matters is that we get these supplies and ourselves back to camp in one piece."

LeBeau looked ashamed. "You are right, Mon Ami. We need to get these supplies and ourselves back to camp. That is most important." The Frenchman glanced at the Englander. "I am sorry, Pierre. I did not mean what I said to you."

Newkirk grinned at the little Frenchman. "I'm sorry too, Louie. And you speak pretty good English…at times, that is."

LeBeau chuckled before his eyes fell on Hotchner who was trying not to grimace.

"Mon Dieu!" he cried suddenly looking pale. "You've been hurt!"

Hotchner glanced down at his arm. "It's only a scratch. No biggie."

"Let me take a look then," Newkirk said moving close to the newbie. He examined Hotchner's upper arm gently. "Blimey, you've been grazed by a bullet. Doesn't seem serious though. Here, hold on a sec while I wrap it." He tore a part of the bottom of his sweater and quickly wrapped it around the wound to stench the blood flow. "Musta been a lucky shot fired by the bleedin' Krauts back there." He placed a hand on Hotchner's shoulder and grinned. "There, mate. Can you still handle a gun?"

"Try me," Hotchner replied with a grin which still looked more like a grimace up close.

Newkirk nodded in response. He patted the man's good shoulder. "That's good enough, mate." He noticed LeBeau appeared white as a sheet and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, LeBeau, don't you go and faint on us now. I can't carry you and a crate at the same time."

"I am not going to faint, Mon Ami. I just felt a little light-headed. But I am fine and you don't have to carry me." Everybody knew LeBeau fainted at the sight of blood which Newkirk found strange as they sometimes saw blood on the job from injuries or death.

Newkirk grumbled and looked at the others. "Okay, let's head outta here." He and Carter picked up their boxes and with LeBeau again in the lead, and a wounded Hotchner bringing up the rear. Carter slowed down until he walked beside Hotchner.

"You okay?" he asked seeing Hotchner wincing.

Hotchner grinned at the younger man appreciating his obvious concern. "I'm fine, really. Don't worry about me."

"I'm really sorry you got hurt on your first assignment outside camp."

"It's only a graze. Don't worry about it. I'm just glad the one that hit the tree back there didn't make contact with my head."

"Yeah," Carter agreed with a chuckle. "I bet that woulda hurt like heck." He and Hotchner both chuckled.

"Carter, stop botherin' the man, will ya, and get yourself up here?" said Newkirk with a glance.

"All right already. Hold your horses, will ya? I'm comin'." Carter quickened his pace and caught up with the Englander. He looked at Newkirk. "Boy, are you in a bad mood. I was just checkin' on Hotchner to make sure he was all right. You don't have to be such a grouch."

Newkirk glanced at the younger man, his face softening. "I'm not being a grouch. I just wanna get back to camp."

* * *

"Where are they?" Hogan asked pacing back and forth while his radioman sat on Carter's lower bunk bed watching him. "They should've been back already."

Kinch shook his head knowing his commanding officer wasn't angry, but increasingly worried.

"I'm sure it's just Newkirk messin' around with the new guy," the black man joked.

Hogan paused in his pacing and stared at him. "Yeah, messing around with a girl if you ask me. I swear I'm gonna be old and gray before my time if Newkirk keeps this up for the rest of the war."

Kinch continued to watch Hogan resume his pacing. "I'm sure they're all right, Colonel," he tried to assure the officer as well as himself. "But the guys know what they're doing and will be okay."

Hogan kept pacing. "I know and you're right," he said not looking at his radioman. "But my gut keeps telling me something's gone wrong."

Kinch glanced at his watch. "Want me to go look for them?"

The Colonel paused and stared at the man. He also looked at his timepiece. "We'll give them another thirty minutes and then I'll go look for them."

Just then, the lower bunk in the corner rattled upward as it rose. Hogan and Kinch hurried over and waited impatiently as the ladder dropped and LeBeau hurriedly climbed up the ladder and stepped into the barracks.

"Where have you been?!" Hogan demanded with both hands stuffed in the back pockets of his trousers trying to control his temper.

"Sorry, Mon Colonel," LeBeau apologized as Newkirk and Carter climbed up next. "But we had a bit of trouble with a patrol."

"What trouble?" asked a concerned Kinch.

"Kraut patrol took a coupla shots in our direction but not at us, Gov'nor," Newkirk continued. "In fact, the ruddy Krauts never even saw us."

"Anybody hurt?" asked Kinch.

"Oui," the Frenchman replied as he helped Carter step over the bed frame and into the barracks. "Sergeant Hotchner was shot, but Pierre took care of it."

"And?" asked Hogan nervously.

"He's all right, Gov'nor. Just a graze is all. We left 'im in the tunnel and had somebody get Wilson to have a look at 'im."

Hogan shook his head and let out a deep breath. "Thank heavens all of you are for the most part all right. And the supplies?"

"They're all downstairs, sir," Carter added. "Safe and sound."

Hogan nodded. "Okay. I want you guys to go back downstairs, get cleaned up, and changed into your uniforms. Then get some rest. You guys did a good job." He headed towards the tunnel entrance.

"Where you headin', Colonel?"

"I'm gonna check on Hotchner and make sure he's all right," Hogan replied as he started down the ladder.

Stepping off the ladder once below, Hogan pulled down the ribbed part of his leather jacket before heading off in the area he knew Hotchner and Wilson would be. It didn't take long to locate them.

Hotchner sat on a wooden bench in the changing room, naked from the waist up, with the camp medic examining the injured area closely.

"How is he, Joe?" asked the officer.

"He'll be fine, sir," Wilson replied as he removed gauze and sulfur from his bag. "It's only a graze. Looks worse than it really was. He'll be good as new in about two-to-three weeks. But he shouldn't try to use that arm during that time."

Hogan stood with arms wrapped around himself as the medic worked quickly first putting the sulfur on the wound to ward off any infection, and then wrapped the injury.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Hotchner said ashamedly avoiding Hogan's face. "I screwed up and let you down the first time I went out."

Hogan smiled. "In no way did you let anybody, least of all me, down, sergeant. According to Newkirk, you kept your head out there and helped get everybody back safely."

"But sir…"

The officer held up a hand stopping him. "No buts, sergeant. You handled yourself well out there. Don't beat yourself up because there's no reason for it. You did well." He let out a breath through his nose. "When Wilson's done, clean up and get changed, then get some rest. You all did a great job out there."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, soldier. Take care of him, Joe."

"Always do, Colonel," Wilson replied with a chuckle as he continued wrapping the arm with gauze.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Penelope Garcia had been back at work for about an hour and working furiously. She studied the contents of the computer screen in front of her. She couldn't believe what she was reading, or lack of what she was reading.

She stared with narrowed eyes at her main computer screen. "Oh no," she mumbled. "Oh no. No. No. No. No. Bossman is not gonna be happy."

* * *

 **A/N: I hope all animal lovers will forgive me.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: My posting may become somewhat erratic for a period of time as my best friend of nearly forty years has stage 4 lung cancer and has been given only a few weeks. So I am kind of out-of-it right now. I'm hoping she will be granted more time, but that possibility isn't promising. So please bear with me.**

 **Chapter 9**

Concerned, Garcia dialed her boss's extension and waited impatiently as she listened to it ring.

"C'mon…c'mon. Pick up, Bossman. Please pick up, sir," she said with a sigh as the phone on the other end continued to ring.

Swearing softly, she disconnected the call after a while and jumped up from her chair. She decided what she had uncovered should be told face-to-face and not over the phone. So after she shoved printed copies of the info she had into the folder along with the photo, she left her office. She then ran as fast as her platform heels would allow her.

Without slowing down, Penelope burst through the double Plexiglas doors of the BAU, and hurried toward the steps leading toward the catwalk, ignoring the curious eyes of agents watching her. As she neared the steps, she glanced upward, and noticing Hotch's office was lit but empty. Panicked, she spotted Morgan at his desk, changed directions, and headed towards it.

Morgan looked up hearing the sound of clattering heels to see his best friend looking panicked.

"Hey, momma, where's the fire?" he teased with a smile.

"Where's Hotch?" she asked on the verge of freaking out. "I need to see Bossman right away."

"I'm not sure," Morgan said with a shrug of his shoulders as he glanced upward himself. "He left his office a few minutes ago but I have no idea where he went. Will I do instead?" He smirked. "You do understand you can tell me anything, sweetness, and I can pass it onto Hotch."

"Not this time, Derek. When will he be back?"

"I have no idea."

"Is this about the guys in that photo?" Prentiss asked behind her having overheard the conversation.

"What photo?" asked Reid showing interest in the conversation taking place around him and glancing between Prentiss and Garcia. His genius brain worked overtime trying to interpret what was going on with his friends. Penelope was about to spill the beans, then remembered she had done exactly that with Morgan, Prentiss and JJ earlier. So, staring at Reid, she tried to diffuse the situation by not repeating her mistake.

"Uh…it's personal, my junior G-man," she said studying Reid. "I mean…it's nothing bad, but I can't tell you so don't ask me again."

"Uh Garcia…." A rough voice said from behind her. "Hotch was summoned to Strauss' office."

The tech analyst turned and saw Rossi on the catwalk above outside his office. He was leaning on the railing with hands clasped on top of the railing. "Something I can do for you instead?"

"Uh…no thanks. That is, no thank you, sir. I mean…I really need to see Hotch as he's the one who requested I look up something for him and report directly to him."

Rossi smiled. "Why don't you c'mon into my office, Garcia. Hotch told me all about it anyway, so you can update me about what you found unless you're determined to wait for Aaron. As he's meeting with the Section Chief there's no telling when he'll be back though. It's up to you."

Garcia pursed her lips and looked as if she was struggling with what to do right now. Hotch had wanted the information given to him and him alone. But she understood if her supervisor changed his mind and shared what he wanted her to uncover with anybody it would be Rossi. She wished she had a fairy godmother to tell her the right thing to do at the moment.

Would Hotch be angry if she showed what she had found to the senior agent instead? She looked around and studied Morgan's face as he looked at her with an arched eyebrow. It was a look that said ' _you can talk to me, Baby Girl. Tell me what's goin' on in that pretty head of yours and this search Hotch requested.'_

With a look of determination, the tech analyst at last straightened her shoulders. She looked up at the older man on the catwalk who waited patiently for her to respond.

"I'll be right up, sir," she replied. "I don't think Hotch would mind me telling you."

Rossi smiled affectionately. "Sure, kitten. C'mon up so we can talk in private." He turned and reentered his office to wait.

Garcia hurried up the steps to the catwalk aware Prentiss, Reid and Morgan were watching her every move. So, to guarantee a fair amount of privacy, she closed the door behind her and started to sit down in one of two chair facing Rossi's desk. But before she sat down, she froze and stood up straight again staring at the older man.

"Can I sit down?" she asked apologetically.

Rossi smiled affectionately and motioned her to have a seat which she then did.

"You don't need to ask permission," he said as he clasped his hands atop his desk and studied the tech analyst.

"Thank you." She took a seat facing the senior agent, and Rossi could see her staring at him nervously while tightly clutching a brown folder. It was as if she was still hesitant to discuss anything except with Hotch. She folded her hands on top of the folder, but couldn't keep them still.

"Okay, why don't you take a deep breath first and calm yourself," he stated, concerned. "Then tell me what you managed to find."

Garcia did what Rossi suggested, took a deep breath, and let it out through her mouth. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

Rossi smirked and studied the tech analyst. "You okay now?"

Garcia nodded. "Yes sir. I'm okay now."

"Good." Rossi leaned back in his plush chair and folded his hands in his lap. "Now tell me what's got you in such an uproar."

"Well, how much did Hotch tell you about what he asked me to do for him?"

Rossi debated before deciding he would talk only about the photo. "Not much. All he told me was he wanted you to research five men in a photo. That's about it." He didn't want to mention anything about the journal as it wasn't his place to do so. "He said the other man was his grandfather and didn't need you to research him."

"Yes, sir."

"So did you find anything?"

"That's just it…" But before she could continue, Rossi's door opened and Hotch walked in closing the door behind him. His eyes fell on the tech analyst. Garcia's eyes avoided his, and she bowed her head shamefully. "I'm sorry, Mon Capitan. Please don't be angry with Agent Rossi. It's all my fault. He told me he knew about what you asked me to do and…"

A smile appeared on Hotch's face. "It's okay," he said his face softening. "I did tell Dave about the photo I gave you."

He walked toward the leather couch against the wall, sat down with forearms resting on his thighs, and clasped his hands between his knees. He studied the woman. "So did you have any luck?"

Garcia turned her complete attention to her supervisor. She first let out a deep breath. "This is kinda weird so I best start at the beginning. I started looking up the men in the photo individually. Colonel Robert Hogan was commander of the 504th Bomber crew during the war. His plane was shot down over Germany, and he was later assigned to Stalag 13 by a German General named Albert Burkhalter. Haven't heard that name before, have you? Well, he was Hitler's right-hand man, and head of the Luftwaffe which during the war was…"

"We know what the Luftwaffe was, Garcia," Rossi pointed out causing the tech analyst to pause.

"Right. Sorry. Allow me to continue. Corporal Louis LeBeau and British Corporal Peter Newkirk were already assigned to Stalag 13 at the same time before the others. Staff Sergeant James Kinchloe arrived about the same time as Colonel Hogan. But one thing I'm having trouble with is that there's no record of a Sergeant Andrew Carter anywhere. But I did find a record of a Lieutenant Andrew Carter during the war. Sirs, both men look exactly alike, but there's no record of Lieutenant Carter having a twin brother."

Rossi eyed Hotch, puzzled. But there was a look in his friend's eye which told him he knew the answer. But the older man wouldn't ask him about it until later.

"That's strange," Rossi said. "How can a man have a twin but there be no record of a twin? And why was this Colonel Hogan assigned by a German General to a Stalag for noncoms? Did you find any explanation as to why this Colonel Hogan ended up in this enlisted man's camp?"

"Not yet. I'm still looking. Right now it looks like he just ended up there somehow."

"That makes no sense," added Rossi. He looked at the younger man.

Hotch rubbed his hands together. "Is there anything else, Garcia?"

The woman sighed. "Trust me when I say things start to get even weirder. I couldn't find anything on what this Colonel Hogan, Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau, or Sergeants Kinchloe and Carter did while at Stalag 13. In fact, I checked on other prisoners in the camp at the same time, and it's like none of them existed while there. I'm telling you it's downright spooky, sir. I couldn't find anything until I searched after the war."

"What did you find then?" Rossi asked.

"Not much. Colonel Hogan was promoted to General and assigned to the Pentagon in 1947. He married a French girl named Marie Monet and they had four children, two boys and two girls. The two girls married and had families. Again there was no history on General Hogan's time in the Pentagon until he retired years later and died in 1978 from cancer. Marie passed six months later from natural causes."

"Any luck on finding the boys?" asked Hotch.

"Not yet. But there's more. As for Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau, LeBeau left the military after the war, returned to France, and opened a French restaurant. He married a local girl, and had three children, two girls and a boy. He and his wife, and two of his three children were killed in a car accident in 1997. The one surviving child is off the grid so far. Newkirk married Samantha Cowling, a friend of his only sister Mavis, and had two boys. He joined MI-6 in 1947 where he remained until his death in 2000 from cancer. So far I haven't found anything on his children, but his widow developed heart trouble, and died two years after him."

"I sense there's more," said Rossi folding his arms across his chest.

"There is. Sergeant Kinchloe married, had three daughters, and remained in the military as General Hogan's aide in the Pentagon until his own death from a stroke in 2001. Finally, I found no post-war information for Sergeant Carter. But Lieutenant Carter went to work in a drug store as a pharmacist after the war, married, and had four boys. But sadly he, his wife, and all of their children perished in a house fire of unknown origin. But here's the oddest thing. I even checked on your grandfather during that time, Hotch, and found no info on his time in Stalag 13 either. But I will keep looking. I promise I will leave no stone unturned."

Hotch fell against the back of the couch. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened them, he looked at the duo. "I'm more confused now than I was earlier. Penelope, are you sure you found nothing on their time in Stalag 13? I mean, these are prisoners-of-war. How could there be no history on their time there?"

"I have no idea, sir. I even checked other POW camps during that time and found a plethora of information on the men there. But there's nothing on the men at Stalag 13."

Rossi stroked his goatee. "I realize I'm gonna ask a stupid question, but I'm gonna ask it anyway. Is it possible you missed something? Or maybe you overlooked something?"

Garcia smiled. "I thought the same thing myself. So I double and triple-checked everything and got the same results. There is nothing on any of these guys including Mon Capitan's grandfather while at Stalag 13. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada. But as I told Bossman, I will keep looking. That's if you want me to, sir," she told her supervisor.

Hotch mulled things over for a few minutes before he looked at the tech analyst. She had done so much for him already, and he hated taking advantage of her again. How he felt must have shown on his face because Penelope smiled warmly in his direction.

"Don't worry, Hotch. You aren't taking advantage of me in any way. I mean…I can understand why you'd think what you're thinking. But I also understand how important finding answers to your questions is to you. I mean…you have nobody you can ask. So there's no need for you to…what I'm trying to say, sir, is you're not in any shape, manner, or form taking advantage. I want to help you in any way I can by finding whatever you need me to find."

Hotch was touched by her words and smiled at her. "Are you sure? I don't want you to be overwhelmed or feel used in any way. I…"

"Sir, stop!" Garcia interrupted holding up a hand. "Just stop! You need this information to help you find out the truth. I want to help you anyway I can. So, stop apologizing and let this all-knowing mystic Oracle do her magic for you. I beg you to use me, and it's not a suggestion. Whatever you need from me I am at your disposal morning, noon, and night. All you need do is ask. The Goddess of All-Things Technical is at your disposal."

Hotch smiled warmly. "Thank you, Penelope," he replied.

The tech analyst returned his smile. "You're welcome, sir. So, what do you need me to do now?"

Hotch let out a deep breath through his mouth. "As long as it doesn't interfere with your regular work, keep searching. I need to find out what happened to these men and any kids they had who are still alive. They might be able to supply answers to my questions."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. I've changed my mind. I also want you to research my grandfather as well. There might be something that will help."

"Consider it done, my liege," Garcia answered as she got to her feet. Before she left Rossi's office she handed Hotch the folder. "Here are prints of what I found so far and the photo. I already downloaded it into my computer so I'm giving it back to you. You can read the information at your leisure."

"Thank you," Hotch replied accepting the folder.

The tech analyst smiled again and left the office to return to her lair as she referred to it. Now alone with Rossi, Hotch thumbed through the folder and spotted the picture. He removed it and handed it to the older man.

"These are the guys my grandfather talks about in the journal."

The senior agent studied the picture. Except for his best friend's grandfather, none of the others looked familiar whatsoever. With a sigh, he handed the photo back to Aaron.

"I can see where you got your good looks from," he teased.

Hotch glared at the older man with his patented stare which Rossi ignored. The famous 'Hotchner stare' had no effect on him whatsoever.

"Y'know, Aaron, we don't have much to go on right now, but three things still bother me."

"I know what you're going to say," Hotch appeared thoughtful. "But according to the journal, I have a possible answer to one question."

"Which is?" Rossi asked crossing his legs.

Hotch licked his lips. "My grandfather says this Colonel Hogan was assigned to Stalag 13 because he kept escaping from wherever the Germans incarcerated him. And they grew tired of having to keep capturing and bringing him back. Apparently they figured if they made him responsible for other men he wouldn't try and escape anymore. So, they assigned him to Stalag 13 and his command was the other men in the camp."

Rossi mulled this over carefully. "Makes sense. I mean…from what Garcia said he was a commander. Makes sense they would put him in charge of other men to keep him in line."

"I agree. But that still doesn't explain why there wasn't any information on any of the prisoners in Stalag 13."

"I agree."

"The other puzzling thing is why Garcia has still been unable to find anything on a Sergeant Andrew Carter but on a Lieutenant Andrew Carter." Hotch massaged his temple. "I have a possible answer but it makes no sense to me."

"Which is?"

"We've seen this before on cases. Is it possible that Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Carter are the same person?"

Rossi remained thoughtful. "It would explain then why he's in a camp for enlisted men. But it doesn't explain why he hid his true rank from everybody to be assigned to a camp for noncoms. There has to be a reason for it."

Hotch nodded. "That's the part I haven't figured out yet," he explained. "Also, such a thing makes no sense, yet it's the only thing that does make sense when you think about it. But it's only a theory."

"But that brings us back to an earlier question if we use your theory," said Rossi.

Hotch nodded as he understood. "You're about to say that if my theory is correct, why would Lieutenant Carter pretend to be a sergeant. I mean, there has to be a reason he'd want to be assigned to a POW camp for noncoms. So far we know why Colonel Hogan was assigned there, but not Lieutenant Carter. From what I understand, as an officer he should have been sent to a different camp. But as he might not have been a commander like Hogan, there has to be a reason we don't know about yet."

"Maybe your grandfather's journal will supply an answer that will explain all this. If you find out make sure you tell me."

Hotch chuckled. "I promise. When I get home later I will first speak with Jack on the phone. I'll be able to read more afterward. Hopefully I'll get answers between what I read and what Garcia gave me."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting an update. But a good friend of mine for nearly forty years died suddenly from lung cancer which had spread to her brain on the twenty-first of January. Needless to say it blew my mind. Days later, I'm still having trouble wrapping my brain around it. But I will continue this story when I again get the urge to resume writing, and ask that you all bear with me.**

 **Chapter 10**

The rest of the work day contained no surprises for neither Hotch nor his team, and they were able to leave work at a reasonable hour. When it was close to six p.m., JJ had walked into the bullpen from her office to find her teammates packing to leave for the day. Not in a hurry to rush home, she insisted they all join her at a restaurant for dinner and a few drinks. She pointed out her husband and son were away visiting Will's parents in New Orleans so the house was empty.

"Best invitation I've gotten today," Prentiss stated sliding the shoulder strap of her pocketbook onto her shoulder.

"Only if you're buyin'," Morgan teased JJ.

The media liaison crossed her arms across her chest. "In your dreams," she replied.

Morgan glanced at Reid. "You comin', Pretty Boy?"

Reid stared blankly at the others. "I don't think so, Morgan," he began. "There's a book I really want to read."

"Don't try and weasel out of comin' with us, kid. You can read your book anytime, and besides, you need to let loose a bit, and tonight would be a perfect start. You're comin' with us even if I have to pick you up and carry you myself." His eyes darted beyond Reid's shoulder. "Hey, momma, you wanna join us tonight? We're goin' out for dinner and drinks."

Garcia, who had been hurrying up the steps to the catwalk, glanced at the black agent. Before she could answer him, she needed to speak with Hotch first and see if he needed her help any further today. "I'll let you know in a nanosecond, handsome," she replied before she knocked on the Unit Chief's door.

"Come in," a voice replied from the opposite side of the door.

Garcia opened the door and walked in to see her boss staring at her.

"Yes?" Hotch asked.

Penelope closed the door and nervously approached her boss's desk. "Sir, everybody's leaving for the day, and…well…the others are asking if I want to join them for dinner and…"

Hotch's smiled and held up a hand. "Say no more. Go. Go have dinner with the team."

The tech analyst studied her boss with sad eyes. "Sir, why don't you come with us tonight? I mean…you're all alone in your apartment, and Jack isn't home. So how about it? Come with us tonight, sir. Please." Garcia continued watching him with 'puppy dog' eyes.

"Thank you for asking," Hotch answered. "But I can't. Jack promised to call tonight and I want to be home when he does. I'd be disappointed if I missed his call and so would he. Maybe another time."

"Well, after you speak with Jackers on the phone, why don't you come to the restaurant and join us for drinks at least."

"Thank you but I don't think so. Besides, I wouldn't be very good company right now. Also, I want to go over the information you gave me earlier, and see where I go from there. But don't worry about me. You go have a good time. You deserve it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Besides, I don't know what time Jack will call." He saw the pained expression on the tech analyst's face as she slowly made her way toward his office door. A smile appeared on his face. "I'll be sure to tell Jack his aunt Penelope says hello."

A watery smile appeared on Garcia's face as she grabbed the door handle and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome," Hotch replied as he turned his attention back to the file in front of him. "Now go before somebody thinks something we're doing something we shouldn't be doing in here."

"What could anybody…." Suddenly Garcia's mouth fell open in horror, and her eyes widened. "Sir, surely nobody would think that you and I…that we….what I mean is that we…we aren't…."

Hotch held up a hand stopping her and smiled. "Trust me, nobody who knows us is going to think we're doing anything inappropriate in my office. Now go."

Garcia let out a deep breath through her mouth. "If you're sure. Just promise me you'll call if you need me to come back tonight for anything." But she knew Hotch wouldn't call her even if he did need her to return because he always put the needs of others before his own.

Hotch opened his mouth to respond but closed it when somebody knocked on his door. He and Penelope exchanged looks, then Garcia opened the door to find Morgan standing there looking back at her with his megawatt smile.

"You need something, Derek?" Garcia asked.

"Only to know if you're gonna join us, sweetness. Everybody's waitin' by the elevators. I said I'd come and get you. You're welcome to come with us, Hotch. The more the merrier they always say."

"As I told Penelope, not tonight," Hotch replied. "Maybe next time. Jack's going to call me tonight and I want to be home when he does."

Morgan smiled. "Tell the little man hello for me."

"I will. Thanks."

Morgan looked at Garcia again. "You comin' momma?"

"Yeah…I mean yes…in a minute." She glanced over her shoulder at her boss who was looking back at her with dimples showing. She loved his dimples. "I know you said no, but are you _sure_ you can't join us after Jack calls?"

"I'm sure," Hotch replied. He stood up behind his desk, grabbed his briefcase off the floor, and began stuffing case files in it. "I've got to get out of here anyway. I have things to do before Jack calls." He stared at his agents. "Have a good time and don't drink too many Green Fairies." (1) His stare was directed solely at Garcia who blushed and averted her eyes.

Morgan held open the door and allowed Garcia to pass by him. He glanced at his supervisor. "Goodnight, Hotch," he said.

"Goodnight, sir," echoed Penelope.

"Goodnight," Hotch said before Morgan closed the door now leaving him alone in his office. Now by himself, Hotch pulled open his middle desk drawer, removed the journal, and stuffed it inside his briefcase before snapping it shut. After turning off his desk lamp, he left his office, closed the door, and locked it.

* * *

As soon as Hotch walked into his apartment, the first thing he did was sit his briefcase on top of the living room table. He then removed his suit jacket and tie, and lay them both neatly across the back of a nearby chair. That was followed by ordering Thai food from his favorite take-out place by phone. While he waited for his food to be delivered, he walked back into the kitchen and poured himself a tall glass of cold milk. He grabbed a plate and a fork. He proceeded to undo the top button of his dress shirt, and roll up both shirt sleeves. After he picked up the items and the glass, he walked back into the living room and sat down at the table to wait for his food.

He proceeded to remove the file folder containing the info he'd been given by Garcia and the journal, and lay them on the table. He planned to look over the info from Garcia first, and after dinner resume reading the journal. He began reading the information when the ringing of his doorbell caught his attention, causing him to stop. He got to his feet and cautiously approached the door.

Because of the work he did, he couldn't be too careful. Hotch squinted through the peephole as his right hand rested on the butt of his Glock still strapped to his waist. He noticed it was the delivery man with the food. He unlocked the door and opened it while reaching into his pants pocket for his wallet. After paying for his order and tipping the deliveryman, he closed and locked his door.

It was about two hours after dinner and having spoken with his son on the phone, that Aaron had finished scanning the copies his tech analyst had given him. Not finding anything he didn't already know, Hotch walked into the kitchen, and poured himself another glass of cold milk. He rinsed the dirty dishes and stacked them in the dishwasher and stored the left over Thai food in the refrigerator for the next day. He then picked up the milk and the journal and heading into his bedroom upstairs.

* * *

 _ **(Flashback – March, 1944):**_

After Wilson had finished wrapping his arm, an exhausted Hotchner made his way up the ladder and into the dimly-lit barracks. The only light came from the moon shining through the closed frosted windows. Once he got his bearings, he spotted Hogan, Kinch, Newkirk, and LeBeau sitting around the table talking and drinking coffee. Carter was notably absent. He struck the side of the upper bed-frame and watched the lower bunk drop over the tunnel opening before approaching the others.

"How you feelin', mate?" asked the Englander being the first to spot Hotchner as Kinch got to his feet. He grabbed an empty coffee cup from the table and head toward the pot-belly stove. The coffee was still warm.

The enlisted man shrugged wincing when he did because of the injury to his arm.

"I'll live," he replied sitting down on the wooden bench opposite the spot Kinch had vacated. After Kinch sat the coffee cup in front of the man, he sat back down in his vacated spot. "Thanks," Hotchner commented picking up the cup with his good arm and taking a drink. He savored the warm liquid.

"Just be glad that ruddy bullet didn't hit you in your bleedin' head," Newkirk added grimly.

"Nice going, Pierre," LeBeau growled glaring at Newkirk. "Such a wonderful image you gave us before we go to sleep."

"All right, LeBeau, leave Newkirk alone. He's just stating the truth," Hogan said.

"Sorry, Colonel," LeBeau said having been chastised by the officer. He studied the Englander. "I apologize, Pierre. Please forgive me."

"Already forgotten, mate." Newkirk took a drink of coffee.

Hotchner glanced around the room. "Where's Carter?"

"He's down in the lab checking the timers and caps London sent," explained Hogan between sips of coffee. "He'll be up later."

"So," Kinch began wrapping both hands around his coffee cup as he studied Hotchner. "How'd you like your first experience outside the fence?"

"It was…interesting to say the least," Hotchner replied carefully after much thought. He didn't want to sound too over-eager or too indifferent about what had happened else the officer might not send him outside the fence again. "I'll try to do better next time, Colonel. I promise."

Hogan smirked. "I know you will. I'm not worried. As for when you might go outside the fence again, we'll have to wait and see how your arm heals. But for the next three weeks you're restricted to the camp."

"What about Klink?" Hotchner asked. "Won't he be suspicious seeing me favor my arm?"

Kinch chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about the Kommandant," he said. "The Colonel will handle him so don't give it another thought. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Qui," LeBeau readily agreed. "Mon Colonel will think of something. He always does."

It was on that note that the men finished their coffee and turned in for the night to get a few hours sleep after a busy night.

* * *

The following morning around six a.m., the barracks door burst open, and the rotund shape of Sergeant Hans Schultz waddled into the room looking menacing. Problem is, everybody but him could see he was failing miserably. He strolled determinedly around the room banging on the sides of certain bunks beginning with Newkirk's.

"Raus! Raus! Everybody outside for roll call! Raus!"

"Blimey, Schultzie…" Newkirk raised his hand and rubbed his tired eyes. "You're worse than a bleedin' rooster. Louder too."

"And bigger…" LeBeau mumbled sleepily.

Schultz frowned. "Jolly jokers," he snarled.

"Go away, Schultz…" Carter mumbled pulling the thin blanket over his head.

Schultz pulled the blanket away exposing the young sergeant's head, but Carter kept his eyes closed. "You boys wouldn't be so tired if you weren't involved in monkey business last night," he accused them.

"Monkey business?" asked Kinch putting his feet on the floor and running his hands down his face. "We're just growing boys who need our rest."

Schultz smirked as he left the barracks. "Growing boys…harrumph!" he growled and he was gone leaving the prisoners to get dressed for roll call.

Carter, having exchanged bunks with Hotchner because of his arm injury, slowly sat up and yawned. "Morning already? I felt like I just went to bed." He yawned again.

"That's 'cause you did, Andrew," Newkirk replied.

"Well excuse me for wanting to be sure those caps and timers were all good," Carter defended himself.

"But did you have to take all ruddy night doin' it?" asked the Englander.

Just then the door to Hogan's private quarters opened, and the Colonel emerged wearing his crush cap on his head, and zipping up his leather jacket. He glanced around with eyes falling lastly on Hotchner who was now sitting up on Carter's assigned bunk. He rubbed his eyes with his good hand.

"How do you feel, sergeant?" Hogan focused on the young man.

"I'm okay, sir," Hotchner replied. "It hurts, but it's bearable."

Hogan nodded. "All right, guys. Let's get outside for roll call. Don't wanna keep the Iron Eagle waiting," The prisoners followed him out the door.

Once the prisoners were lined up in two rows, Schultz began counting…

"Eins, Zwei, Drei, Vier, Funf, Sechs, Sieben…" He never got any further as Hogan and the men began counting from the beginning while he tried to continue. The guard became so frustrated he began from the beginning again only to be interrupted by the prisoners again causing him to lose his place. He then tried counting using his fingers.

Hogan stood with hands clasped behind his back and smirked.

"Hey, Schultz, feel free to remove your boots and socks and use your toes if need be." There were chuckles amongst the prisoners.

Schultz growled in frustration after Hogan's interruption causing him to again lose his place. He was about to begin again when a booming voice startled him.

" _Schultz, repoooooooorrrrrrttttt!"_ It was Klink after he walked out of the Kommandantur and approached the guard, his swagger stick tucked under his arm.

Schultz nervously turned around and saluted the German officer. "All prisoners are present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant." He hoped they were all here.

"Very good, Sergeant." Klink's eyes looked at the assembled prisoners before landing on his American counterpart. He marched up to Hogan until they stood face-to-face nearly touching noses. But Hogan's expression remained neutral.

"Something I can do for you, Kommandant?"

"Hogan, things have been too quiet around here lately meaning you're up to something. And whatever that something is, I suggest you forget it because nobody ever escapes from Stalag 13."

"Yeah, but if we didn't at least try we wouldn't need you and all these guards, now would we?"

Klink took a step closer to the officer. "You have been warned."

Hogan feigned looking completely cowed. "Yes, sir," he answered with bowed head.

With a satisfied smirk, the German officer kept his eyes on the man. "Schultz, dismiss your men."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant. Prisoners…dismissed!" He turned around and started to walk away, but bumped into Sergeant Hotchner's injured arm causing the young man to grimace in pain at the contact. He unintentionally grabbed his injured arm and pulled it close to his body. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Hogan. But the American wasn't staring at him. Then he noticed why. Hogan was watching Klink who had seen what happened and stared at the injured man with narrowed eyes. He became suspicious.

Hogan's mind was working overtime now. He hadn't expected Klink to see what happened anymore then Schultz accidentally bumping into the man's injured arm. He also noticed Hotchner had a look of panic on his face. But Hogan remained calm.

Klink shook a balled fist in Hogan's face with a look of fury on his face.

"Thought you could hide that from me, did you! Well, I'm too smart for you, Colonel Hogan. Now you are going to tell me exactly how did that man become injured! And I promise there will be dire consequences if you lie to me!"

Hogan glanced nervously at Hotchner and swallowing the lump in his throat, then at Klink, back at Hotchner, and lastly at Klink again.

Sensing Hogan was stalling, Klink angrily stomped his foot, his body now trembling with rage. "You will tell me how this man was injured and you will tell me now! Now talk else I will have Sergeant Hotchner tossed in the cooler for thirty days. In addition, you and the rest of your men will be confined to the barracks with the loss of all privileges for the same thirty days!"

Hogan again glanced over his shoulder at Hotchner who had the look of a frightened deer caught in the headlights. Then with a weary sigh, he faced the German officer.

"I'm waiting. And I warn you, don't lie to me because you can't hide anything from me so I suggest you don't even try."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

* * *

(1)A Green Fairy drink is made with 1 dash Bitters, 2 Tsp. of egg whites, the juice of 1 lemon, 1 oz. water, and 1 oz. Gold Absinthe liqueur.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 _ **(Flashback – Continuation):**_

"I'm waiting, Hogan!" Klink demanded.

Hogan blew a breath out through his mouth. He decided honesty would be best right now.

"Well, its kinda embarrassing, sir," he began. "And I'm afraid you're gonna find it hard to believe."

"I'll decide that. Continue your narrative."

"Well, see uh…he…well…he sprained his arm playing chess," Hogan explained with a somber look on his face.

" _What?!"_ Klink asked. Of all of Hogan's stories, it was the most preposterous story he'd ever heard.

"Told you it would be hard to believe."

"Hogan, you are without a doubt, the biggest liar I have _ever_ met! I've played chess quite often, and I've never sprained my arm."

"That's due to your marvelous stamina and endurance, sir," added Hogan enviously. "It's no wonder you've never injured yourself. I mean…you are a splendid specimen of the human male, sir." Hogan was trying not to laugh when he said the last sentence. Even the rest of his core unit were struggling to control themselves as they listened. "But Sergeant Hotchner isn't in as great shape as you. And when he got to his feet during a game to stretch, his legs must have fallen asleep and he fell and landed on his arm, spraining it. Wilson says he's lucky he didn't break his arm when he landed."

Klink shook his head. "Hogan, that's the most incredible…chess you say?"

"Yes, sir. And he's pretty good if I say so myself, but not on a caliber with you, sir."

"He's good, you say? Hmmm. Did Sergeant Wilson say how long it will take for this sprain to heal completely?"

"About three weeks, sir."

"Very well. Sergeant Hotchner will be on light duty for the next three weeks, and once his arm heals, I would like to challenge him to a chess match. We'll see if he's as good as you say he is."

"Yes, sir. Sir…" Hogan lowered his voice. "Please go easy on him. I mean, with your ability with chess, try not to show him up too much. After all, he's not on the same level as you."

Klink smiled reminding Hogan of a Piranha circling its next meal. "I uh…I'll certainly try my best, Hogan, but I can't promise anything. After all, I am a master at the game."

"Yes, you are, Colonel. I'm sure he can learn a lot about the game just by observing the master in action."

Hogan noticed Schultz snickering. They both had seen how bad Klink was at chess and even worse playing the violin. In Hogan's opinion, a child could defeat Klink in chess.

Klink saluted Hogan, spun around, and stomped away heading in the direction of his office. When he was far enough away, Schultz sided up to Hogan and lowered his voice.

"Colonel Hogan…Did Sergeant Hotchner really sprain his arm playing chess? Or did you just tell a lie to the Big Shot?"

Hogan smirked and there was a twinkle in his brown eyes. "Me tell a lie? Schultz, I'm hurt you would even think such a thing."

The obese guard wagged a forefinger at the officer. "Hah, I suspect some monkey business is going on here."

Newkirk, Kinch, Carter, Hotchner, and LeBeau moved closer to the American officer.

"Monkey business, Schultz?" asked Kinch with arched eyebrows. "There's no monkeys here." He looked around at the others. "Have you guys seen any monkeys in camp?"

"Not since me mate, Freddy, was here. And he's a chimpanzee and not a monkey," Newkirk said. "Besides, Freddy's in the zoo." He pointed a finger at the guard. "If me memory's workin' right, you took 'im back there yourself." (1)

"That's when I last saw 'im," Carter admitted. "And Freddy's real happy there. He met and fell in love with a lady chimpanzee and…"

Schultz looked suspiciously at Carter. "And how do you know this?"

Hogan leaned forward and smirked. "C'mon, Schultz, do you really want to know?"

Schultz straightened his posture. "No. I know nothing! I see nothing! I hear nothing!"

"Smart move," Kinch added.

The large guard turned and waddled away as fast as somebody his size was able. Watching him leave, Hogan wrapped his arms around himself and chuckled. He glanced over at Hotchner. "How's the arm? Did the ole barrage balloon add insult to injury?"

"It's okay," Hotchner answered. "Colonel, why did you tell Klink I'd play chess with him? I don't know the first thing about chess or how to play."

Hogan chuckled again as he watched Schultz's receding figure, and spoke without looking at Hotchner.

"Kinch, when you get a chance, teach Hotchner how to play chess."

Kinch smirked. "Will do, Colonel."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

The rest of Hotch's team had gathered at their favorite restaurant, and were shown to a table in the back. The table was separate from the others and offered more privacy.

The brunette waitress whose name-tag said Tracy, handed each a menu promising to return within a few minutes and take their orders. Moments after she left, another waitress appeared and asked what they wanted to drink, and waited with her pad and pencil.

"I'll have a Green Fairy," Garcia bravely announced with a smile which came as no surprise to anybody.

"Remember what Hotch said, momma," Morgan reminded her with a grin. "Besides, we've all seen how you get after you've had a couple of those." He glanced back at the waitress. "I'll take a beer."

"Derek Morgan, are you saying I can't control my alcohol?" Garcia retorted with a sweet smile at the black agent.

Morgan chuckled. "I'm sayin' no such thing. All I am sayin' is you get totally wasted after several of those things."

"I do not!"

"Yes you do, Penelope…" JJ added. "It's a good thing we have each other's addresses, because the last time you were so wasted you couldn't even remember where you live." She smiled at the waitress. "I'll have a white wine," she ordered. She and Prentiss had tried a Green Fairy once, and after several of them the hangover was one neither wished to repeat.

"Make mine a beer," remarked Prentiss remembering the Green Fairy hangover of earlier days.

"I'll take a Scotch on the Rocks," added Rossi.

"What about you, kid?" Rossi asked studying Reid who had been strangely quiet.

"Yeah…what about you, Pretty Boy?" asked Morgan teasingly.

"Ummm…I guess I'll have a Club soda with lemon," the genius said quietly. Morgan snorted and rolled his eyes at Reid's choice of drink.

"Why don't you take a chance, kid," Morgan said. "Order a real drink for once."

"Why?" Reid asked. "Somebody's got to stay sober and be able to drive later. Besides, the percentage of men and women who enter a bar and leave still sober is…"

"Kid, enough with the stats…." Rossi said in a voice that left no room for argument. Reid closed his mouth and looked at the table.

"I'll be right back with your drinks," the woman replied with a smile before walking away.

Now alone, the team set about discussing their current worry which was their Unit Chief and what was going on with him.

"C'mon, Rossi," Morgan began, clasping his hands on top of the table and eying the older man. "You're Hotch's best friend so don't tell us you have no idea what's goin' on with him."

"I swear I know nothing," Rossi lied believingly.

"You sure about that?" asked Prentiss as the waitress returned with a tray and sat their drinks in front of each of them before leaving. Prentiss took a sip of her beer.

Rossi sipped his Scotch and chuckled. "If you have a question about Hotch, perhaps you should ask Hotch."

"I just hope it's nothing bad," JJ continued. "He's been through so much in the last few years. I don't know how much more he can take."

"Oh it's nothing bad," Garcia contributed without thinking about what she was saying as she took another drink of her alcoholic beverage. "Trust me, it's not."

"Gaaaarciaaaa…" Rossi warned carefully eying the tech analyst.

"What?" Penelope asked staring at the older man. "It's not. It's just looking up a couple of guys in a photograph. What's wrong with that?"

"What photograph?" asked a bewildered Reid looking at the others.

"Bossman wanted Baby Girl to research some guys in a black and white photo from World War 2," Morgan explained in-between drinks of beer. "One of them was his grandfather."

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "Seems they were all in a POW camp during the war."

"Who are these people?" Reid asked.

Morgan shrugged. "Who knows?" He then studied Rossi's face. "C'mon, Rossi. Apparently Hotch needs our help with this, and helping him beats paperwork anytime. So what's goin' on with the big man?"

"I. Know. Nothing," Rossi answered. "I swear."

"That tells us you do, Rossi," Emily chimed in eagerly. "So spill. What's up with Hotch? We're only asking because we care and want to help."

The senior agent sighed through his nose. The team cared about their boss and wanted to help him. He decided he would not mention anything about the journal. That should be Hotch's decision, and he would discuss that with him tomorrow. But for the time being, he would tell as much as he could without betraying his friend's confidence.

"Look, Hotch showed me a black and white photo of a couple of guys dressed in World War two attire including his late grandfather. He also said his grandfather was in a POW camp. If there's anything else going on, it's up to Hotch whether he wants to tell you or not."

"So we were right about there being something else…" added JJ with a toss of her head throwing a strand of long blonde hair over her shoulder.

* * *

Hotch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyelids were getting heavy. _So that's where granddad learned to play chess_. _He was so good at the game. And all this time I thought his own father taught him how to play._ A small smile appeared as he recalled his grandfather teaching him to play when he was younger. Even to this day, he sometimes played with Reid or Rossi on the jet when they were returning from a case as a way to relax. He found it a good way to turn off his mind after a case. He had tried once to teach his younger brother, Sean, how to play.

But Sean could never grasp the basics of the game and really wasn't interested in learning. But Hotch promised himself when his son Jack was older, he would teach him the game and hoped he'd learn to enjoy it. If not, that to him was okay also. He stifled a yawn, and despite the lateness of the hour, resumed reading.

* * *

 _ **(Flashback – Continuation):**_

Hotchner lay on his back on the bottom bunk in the common room in the dark, his uninjured arm beneath his head. His injured arm throbbed but the pain was manageable thanks to the aspirin supplied by Wilson. He stared at the underside of the bunk above him, knowing Newkirk lay sound asleep. Carter, normally assigned to the bunk beneath the Englander's, offered to switch bunks with Hotchner. It was to make things easier as he couldn't climb into his own upper bunk.

Despite what Hogan and the others told him, he blamed himself for getting shot. He told himself maybe he should have paid closer attention to his surroundings. Maybe if he hadn't tried so hard to prove himself capable.

 _It shouldn't have happened,_ he told himself. _Everybody told me I did what I was supposed to do, but still this shouldn't have happened._ He blew out a deep breath through his mouth and closed his eyes hoping to fall asleep and thus shutting out the outside world. It wasn't long before he lapsed into a troubled sleep.

* * *

Hogan lay on his back on his upper bunk in his quarters with both hands behind his head. He stared at the ceiling unable to sleep as he kept rehashing the earlier mission's outcome in his head. But he found no matter how many times he went over it, the outcome was the same. And as he could find no fault with any of the men including the newbie, he decided the fault must have been on his part. He must have either overlooked something, or made a mistake in his planning. He always felt responsible somehow when one of his men was injured.

" _Hotchner's lucky he didn't get killed,"_ Hogan told himself _._ He didn't want to admit to anybody how much Newkirk's earlier remark of Hotchner nearly being shot in the head had unnerved him. In the past he had sometimes been accused of getting too cocky with his planning. Is that what he did this time? Could that be why one of his men was nearly killed? _"Come morning I'll apologize to Hotchner. I mean, it's the least I can do for the man,"_ he told himself.

With that settled, he closed his eyes and allowed darkness to come and take him away.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch awoke with a start and sat up in bed. It took him a few minutes to clear the cobwebs and realize he was in his own bedroom and had fallen asleep. As he looked around, he noticed the table lamp was still on, and he was still dressed in his suit pants and now wrinkled dress shirt. While he ran his hands up and down his face, he spotted the journal beside him on the bed. He picked it up while glancing sideways at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearing four-thirty in the morning.

He figured he wouldn't be getting any more sleep for the rest of this night, so he sat up on his bed with his feet on the floor.

* * *

David Rossi, mumbling incoherently, pulled the blanket over his head hoping to block out the ringing of his telephone. The team had stayed out late, and he had only gotten home two hours ago, and fell into bed. When he still heard the sound, he swore as he pulled the blanket off his head and turned on the lamp on his night table. With a deep sigh, he reached out a hand.

"This better be important, Aaron," he muttered after he had grabbed the receiver, and put it to his ear. After a few minutes, his face softened. "No…no…no, it's okay. Really. It's all right." He glanced sideways at the clock on his night table noticing the time. He had a feeling his friend had probably been awake unable to sleep. "What's up with you? Everything okay? Is Jack okay?"

Hotch exhaled deeply on his end. "Jack's fine. But that isn't what I'm calling about, Dave. It's this journal."

"What about it?"

"I…I'm not sure anymore that what's written by my grandfather in this journal is fiction."

Rossi's tired eyes narrowed and he sat up in bed a bit straighter.

"What makes you say that? Was it something you read?"

Hotch ran a hand over his messy thick black hair. "In a way. I just read that my grandfather was shot and wounded by a German patrol. He could have been killed. Why would he make up something like that unless it was true? Nobody would do that just to make a story interesting."

"I agree. It would be stretching things a little too much. Aaron, talk to me. What's going on in that mind of yours?"

Hotch exhaled deeply. "The only thing that's keeping me from fully believing what's written is not truly fiction, is this underground operation beneath the POW camp. I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around that one part. Frankly, I'm not sure what to believe or do anymore."

Rossi paused for a few moments. "Let me ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me. Can you do that?"

"I'll try. What is it?"

"Now that you've read and uncovered what you have so far, how do you feel about your grandfather right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you embarrassed by what you've read?"

"What do you mean by embarrass…"

"Cut the bull! You know damn well what I'm asking. Are you ashamed by what your grandfather wrote? Are you ashamed of him as a person?"

"Am I asham…no! If anything, I'm proud of him. How can you even ask that?"

"Easy. If you're not ashamed of your granddad or what he wrote, then why are you keeping this such a big secret? You only told me so far. Why haven't you told the team? Used your team? They might be able to help you find the answers to the questions you have."

"I haven't told anybody else because it's my personal business, not theirs."

"Then you are ashamed of him but just too much of an ass to admit it," Rossi said.

"Damn it! I already told you…"

"I remember what you told me, and _I'm_ telling you now that you need to get over yourself and think about what I've said. If you're embarrassed about your granddad then forget everything I've said. But if you're as proud of him as you claim, then let the team in on what's going on so they can help you. They're already suspicious something's going on with you and want to help. They love and care about you. Don't shut us out."

"I'm not sure…"

"As their boss, you expect your subordinates to come to you when they have a problem. What's wrong with their boss coming to them when he has a problem?"

"You said it yourself. I am the boss. A Unit Chief doesn't go to those under him when he has a problem."

"If you were here right now, I'd smack you, and hopefully knock some sense into that hard head of yours. Yes, you're our boss, you're also our friend. And we care about you as much as you care about us. So what do you say? Will you let us help you?"

"I…I'll think about it."

"Yeah, you do that. Think long and hard as to whether you're embarrassed by your grandfather. Too embarrassed to want anybody else to see what he wrote. And when you come to a decision, tell me. I'm going back to sleep and you should too. Tomorrow's a work day. G'night, Aaron."

"Goodnight. Sorry I woke you. Get some sleep."

"You too." Rossi hung up the receiver, punched his pillow, turned out the lamp and closed his eyes hoping to get a few more hours sleep.

* * *

Aaron Hotchner hung up once he heard the dial tone on the other end. Letting out a deep breath through his mouth, he buried his face in his hands. He rehashed in his mind over and over what Rossi had pointed out and brought to his attention. In the long run, Aaron had to admit what Rossi said he'd never thought of or even considered. Now he needed to make a decision before morning.

* * *

(1) The chimpanzee named 'Freddy' was from the episode MONKEY BUSINESS, Season 3.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:Sorry to have not posted for so long. I was coming to grips with my friends sudden death, and then I developed writer's block. But I have managed to get rid of my block and am back. I hope the followers of this story are still out there after all this time. Chapters 13, 14 & 15 are with my beta who will return them as soon-as-possible. ****Anyway, here is the next chapter. Enjoy.**

 **Chapter 12**

The following morning Aaron Hotchner arrived early at the BAU. He was going over unsigned case files in his office from the day before, and noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking between the open Venetian blinds of his office window from behind his desk, he spotted David Rossi walking through the Plexiglas doors of the BAU. He continued watching his friend as he trudged tiredly up the steps to the catwalk, and disappeared into his own office. He suspected Rossi had been unable to fall back asleep after he had awoken him the night before. He waited a few minutes to allow Rossi to get settled in before he left his own office, and walked toward the senior agent's. He paused for a few seconds outside the closed door before he gently rapped on it.

"Come in, Aaron," Rossi requested.

Opening the door, Hotch stood in the doorway staring at his friend with an arched eyebrow, puzzled.

"How's you know it was me?"

Seated behind his mahogany desk, the older man leaned back in his chair with clasped hands in his lap. He was smirking as he stared at his friend.

"In case you forgot, I am a profiler. Also, I spotted you looking at me as I walked up the steps. I figured you would come see me because you feel guilty for waking me in the wee hours of the morning."

"Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. I understand you have a lot on your mind right now."

A faint smile appeared on Hotch's face as he stepped inside the office and closed the door behind him. Not waiting for permission, he plopped down onto the sofa against the wall and with both elbows on his knees, rested his chin in his hands.

"Whoa…you look like crap," Rossi said, worriedly. "Did you get any sleep after we spoke?"

"I feel like crap," Hotch replied. "I tried closing my eyes, but I couldn't shut off my mind. So I remained awake until my alarm went off at five a.m."

"So uh….did you give any thought to what we discussed at all?"

"Yeah. And you were right. I had never given any thought as to whether I was embarrassed about what my grandfather had written in his journal. Had never even considered it. But bottom line is I'm not. He fought for our country during World War two, was captured by the enemy, and fought to come home to his family. I couldn't be prouder of him if I tried. And if he included a bit of non-fiction with fiction in his journal, that doesn't make me any less proud of his accomplishments in the war."

The corners of Rossi's mouth turned upward. He pyramided his fingers in front of his mouth. "That's my boy," he said with fatherly pride which in no way was feigned.

Rossi couldn't be prouder of Hotch than if he had been his own son. His only child stillborn at birth, he liked to believe James would have turned out like Aaron had he lived. In fact, he loved the younger man as a son despite not sharing DNA. He hoped before he retired permanently that Hotch would supersede his own accomplishments.

Hotch ran his hands down his tired face and sighed before he again eyed the senior agent.

"Something tells me you've reached a decision," Rossi said with a grin.

"I have. And you're right. Perhaps the team can help. But I don't want any special treatment. I want this treated like any other case we handle." He leaned against the back of the couch and crossed his arms across his chest. "Who's here so far?"

Rossi shrugged. "I saw Garcia and JJ earlier when I arrived." He glanced up and looked through the partially open blinds. "Looks like Prentiss just arrived. I see her at her desk now. That leaves Morgan and Reid. But they should be wandering in before long."

Hotch sighed. "Let's give it an hour. Then I want you to gather everyone in the conference room. Make sure Penelope brings her laptop as well. But don't tell them why I want them there. I'll tell them when I get there."

"You're the boss," Rossi chuckled.

"Glad you remembered that fact," Hotch started to get up from where he was sitting. "I guess I'd better get back to my office. I have things to do before I meet with the team." He walked toward the door and gripped the handle, and glanced back at Rossi. "I hope I'm doing the right thing, Dave," he added.

"You are," the senior agent said with a grin.

"It's just that sharing a part of my life is difficult for me. I'm not used to doing it."

"I remember something you told me when I came out of retirement to rejoin the team after Gideon left. And it's something it took me a while to learn and I'm sure it's true for you as well in a way."

"What's that?"

"There's no 'I' in team."

"And if I remember correctly, you told me that sharing is a learned skill. I'm trying to learn that skill. It's just going to take time."

"I understand, and you'll get there. Just keep in mind that we're all here for you and you're not alone. Now get your ass outta here so I can get some work done before the meeting."

With a grin, Aaron left Rossi's office and returned to his own.

* * *

"Do we have a case?" Reid asked looking at the media liaison as others took their seats around the conference room table.

"Nothing came across my desk," said JJ just as puzzled as Reid. She looked at Rossi as he sat down beside her. "Any idea why Hotch called this meeting?"

"I have no idea. Only Hotch knows," the older man replied.

"I bet it's got something to do with the men in that photo Garcia researched," stated Morgan. He leaned forward in his chair with both elbows on the table and hands clasped together in front of his face. "Is that it?" he asked staring at Rossi.

"I have no idea," Rossi stated.

"And why did Bossman want me to bring my laptop?" asked a puzzled Penelope looking at the others, her laptop open in front of her.

"All he said is he wanted you to bring it," Rossi told her. "Maybe he wants me to retire again and wants me to choose a date."

"C'mon, Rossi…" Prentiss stared at the older man warily. "You know more than you're telling us. You know it and we know it. So spit it out."

Dave was about to open his mouth to respond when the door opened, and in walked the Unit Chief, closing the door behind him. The team members quieted down and stared at their boss waiting patiently.

Aaron sat at the head of the table, and lay the folder Garcia had given him the day before and the journal on the table. His eyes landed on Rossi's and maintained contact as if finding the strength he needed right now to continue. The Unit Chief let out a deep breath through his nose.

"I sense you're all wondering why I asked all of you to come here…" he began.

"Do we have a case, sir?" asked Garcia looking up at him wide-eyed behind black framed glasses.

"No, Garcia," replied Hotch, his face revealing nothing. "For the last few days I had Garcia do research for me about something in my past about my grandfather. I thought at first I could handle things on my own, but I've discovered I'm going to need help."

"Research for what?" asked Morgan curiously.

Hotch sighed. "Several years after my father died and before my mother passed, she sent me several journals written by my late grandfather. It turns out he was a prisoner-of-war in World War two and imprisoned in Stalag 13. I've only read part of the first journal. But inside I found a black-and-white photo of six men, one being my grandfather. I asked Garcia to check out the men in that photo. Garcia?"

The tech analyst activated her laptop and a larger photo of the men in the picture was displayed onto the white board. She turned toward the picture and picked up where Hotch had left off in his narrative.

"When Hotch came to me and asked me to research the men in the photo, I figured it would be an easy enough task. Of course I didn't realize how wrong I was at the time. Through my research, the men in this photo are as follows." She pointed to each man as she identified him. "They are Corporals Louis LeBeau and Peter Newkirk, Staff Sergeants James Kinchloe and Aaron Daniel Hotchner, Colonel Robert Edward Hogan, and Technical Sergeant Andrew Carter. Colonel Hogan was the Senior Prisoner-of-War in Stalag 13."

"Anything else, momma?" Morgan asked fascinated.

"So far I found nothing on any of the men imprisoned in the camp," Garcia replied dejectedly.

Reid's eyes narrowed. "Garcia, was this a camp for enlisted men only?"

"It was."

"What are you thinking Spence?" JJ asked.

"If this was a camp strictly for enlisted men, then what is an officer doing assigned there in the first place?"

"They did say this Colonel Hogan was the Senior POW in Stalag 13," said JJ.

"But not in an enlisted men's camp," Reid pointed out. "He wouldn't have been assigned there to begin with being an officer. An officer would have been assigned to a camp designated for officers only. What changed here?"

Hotch leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of him. "I might have an answer to that question." His team paused and looked at their leader, waiting patiently.

"In the journal, one of the things mentioned was that this Colonel Hogan was assigned to Stalag 13. After capture, he kept escaping, and the Germans had had enough. They figured the best way to hold onto him was to send him to a camp where he'd be in charge of other men. So, he was sent to Stalag 13. His command was the other prisoners there."

"That answers one question anyway," said Prentiss glancing at the others. "Anything else?" she asked looking at the tech analyst.

"Well, I haven't been able to find anything on this Sergeant Andrew Carter," Garcia said glumly. "It's like he didn't exist. But I did find a Lieutenant Andrew Carter."

The others exchanged looks.

"Is there a possibility this Sergeant Carter and Lieutenant Carter are one and the same?" asked JJ. "Or perhaps they're brothers?"

"They're not related to each other," said Garcia. "Believe me I checked."

"What about the other men in the prison camp?" asked Morgan.

"That's weird as well. I can't find anything on any of the men in that camp."

"Not on _any_ of the men there?" asked a shocked Reid.

"Not a single one so far," Garcia said eying the genius. "But I'm still looking."

"This is really weird," said Morgan. "So where does that leave us?" he asked staring at Hotch.

"With a lot of questions and very few answers," Rossi commented staring at nobody in particular.

"So what do you need us to do?" asked Reid.

Hotch sighed wearily. "This case is not an assigned case like our others, so I have no right to order any of you to help. But I would appreciate any of you who would like to volunteer. But should you not want to volunteer, I will not be upset. I've also decided I don't want any special treatment paid to this case just because I'm involved. I want it treated just like any other case we normally handle. Also, I know working a case is better than doing paperwork. But I want to make it clear that when we're on FBI time, we do FBI work and nothing else. We will work this case on our own time. That means, Garcia, you will no longer research anything on these men during business hours. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Garcia replied hanging her head and speaking softly understanding she had been found out.

The others exchanged looks with each other before again looking at their boss with raised hands.

"Are all of you sure?" Hotch asked again staring at his team.

"How you want us to work it, Hotch?" asked Morgan.

"Tell us what you want us to do, sir," added Penelope smiling.

Hotch glimpsed at each member as he assigned a task. "Garcia, I want you to keep researching these men and any surviving children. See if you can find us something. Morgan, help Garcia with her research. Help her find angles which to search so she isn't wasting her time."

Garcia smiled warmly at the black agent who gave her his best smile in return.

"Reid, research other POW camps during that time. Also, I need you to pay special attention to Corporals LeBeau and Newkirk post-war as neither is American. LeBeau is French and Newkirk is British. Maybe we can find a lead if we can find out what they both did after the war. But check with Garcia first to see what she may have found out about their post-war activities. This way will give you a starting point."

Reid nodded.

"Rossi, I need you to go over what's been found out so far and see if there's anything we may have overlooked."

"You got it," he replied.

"JJ, you and Prentiss are to check with Garcia first. She managed to locate a few offspring survivors of these men, and I want both of you to locate them. But don't interview any of them. Come to me first and let me decide how best to go ahead. We're probably dealing with the military and have to go through channels."

"Understood," Prentiss replied.

"What about you, sir?" asked Garcia. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to continue reading my grandfather's journal and see if there's anything more I can learn that can help us." Everybody started to get to their feet including Hotch.

"One more thing," the Unit Chief's words got their attention causing them to pause at the door and look over their shoulders at him. "I don't need to tell any of you that this stays between us. I don't want anybody outside this team getting wind of this. That's all."

He watched as the others left the conference room except Rossi. The older man moved beside his boss until they were the only two left in the room. The senior agent looked at his friend.

"Any regrets?" he asked.

Hotch glanced in his direction, his face impassive. "None," was all he said before walking away.

* * *

After leaving the conference room, the team gathered at Reid's desk to discuss what had taken place in the meeting. Morgan sat on the edge of the desk, Prentiss stood beside the genius, JJ sat on the edge of the desk behind Reid's, and Garcia stood beside Morgan. Nobody said anything for several minutes as they were still mulling over what had transpired at the meeting minutes earlier. They had seen their boss head back to his office glancing their way before he disappeared into his office, closing the door. He hadn't spoken a word to them as he passed by them, but he had caught them watching him.

"Poor Hotch," Garcia murmured misty-eyed. "I hope we can help him."

Morgan folded his arms across his expansive chest. He let out a deep breath through his mouth. "I don't know, Baby Girl," he began. "You're talkin' about World War Two not to mention the military. A lot of that stuff might be classified to this day."

"Why would it be classified?" asked Penelope.

"For one, don't you find it weird that you can't find anything on any of those men in Stalag 13? I mean not a single thing? Now that to me is kinda weird," said Morgan.

"Yeah, me too," Prentiss added. "I mean what was so strange about this Stalag 13 that everything there would need to be classified including the prisoners."

"Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves?" asked Reid quietly. "I mean, we don't know that these prisoners were doing anything other than being prisoners."

Morgan smirked and stared at the young man. "That's why you're gonna use that big ole brain of yours and find out. I bet you'll find they were just regular prisoners there simply waiting for the war to end so they could go home to their loved ones. And Hotch's grandfather being one of them, simply wrote a good fiction story for his grandkids, nothing else."

Garcia, JJ, Emily, and Reid all exchanged looks which said that they didn't necessarily agree with Morgan's words, but they couldn't readily dismiss them either.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The rest of the day, besides being uneventful, seemed to drag on forever. The agents, including Hotch, were buried knee-deep in paperwork with apparently no end in sight.

In fact, the agents found themselves periodically checking the wall clock impatiently wanting the workday to end so they could begin working on their boss's mystery.

Only Garcia went against her boss's wishes, knowing he would forgive her for disobeying his orders. He could never stay or even become angry with her. Besides, she really wasn't disobeying his orders. On the contrary, she was doing exactly what he told her to do, but with a small detour. She told herself Hotch would understand completely.

So the minute she walked into her 'lair', she sat down at her main computer screen. She slid her chair over to a screen next to the one she had been using, and began typing on the keyboard. She input a program allowing a search to be run while she worked on her original computer downloading the team's case files. Once finished loading the program and starting the search, she slid her chair back to her main screen, and resumed downloading the case files.

She had been at work for only thirty minutes when a sound emitted from the computer screen besides her telling her something had been found. She abandoned her work, and scooted over to the other computer and stared at the screen. Her jaw fell at what she was seeing displayed…or rather, not displayed.

"This can't be right," she muttered quietly letting her fingers race over the keyboard, work temporarily forgotten. "This is not good," she muttered to herself. "Not good one little iota."

* * *

"Finally," Morgan said exasperated, tossing a folder onto a completed pile of folders on his desk. After he tossed his pen on his desk, he leaned back against the back of his chair and ran both hands over his bald dome.

"What are you whining about now?" asked Prentiss as she looked up from her open file.

"Finally finished my paperwork, Princess. And it's only five o'clock." Morgan didn't hide his megawatt smile from the brunette agent.

Emily's dark eyes narrowed as she studied the black agent completed stack of folders. "Quitting time isn't until six p.m.," she reminded him. "And how come you finished all you cases anyway? You had more files than Reid and I put together."

Morgan smirked causing Emily to suspect something was amiss. She glanced at her pile of folders still to be worked, and that was when she spotted it. She got to her feet, grabbed about a dozen files still to be worked, and approached Morgan's desk where she dumped them in front of him.

"What's this?" Morgan asked with a frown.

"Thought I wouldn't notice the folders you added to my pile, did you?" she asked. She realized Morgan had really only put about seven folders on her desk, but she figured it would be a great excuse to give several of her own to him. She also realized he wouldn't complain because if he did, he would have to admit he had given her some of his own work.

"I have no idea what you're talkin' about," he replied feigning innocence.

Reid, smirking, spun around in his chair and dumped two dozen more folders on his friend's desk. "Or the files you slipped on my desk?" he added. In reality, he was aware Morgan had only slipped about twelve folders in his in-box. But it would be a great way to get back at the man who so often slipped some of his work onto the genius.

With a loud sigh, Morgan shook his head. He stared at the female agent with an innocent expression on his face.

"C'mon, Prentiss," he began. "Can't you give a guy a break? I mean…have a little sympathy."

Emily mulled things over for a few seconds before she answered. "Derek, I love you like a brother. I really do. It's just that when it comes to doing your work for you, I have no sympathy. Sorry." She walked back to her desk and sat down in her chair with an amused expression.

"How 'bout it, Pretty Boy?" Morgan asked the youngest agent. "Feelin' enough sympathy for me with all this work still to do?" He stared at the genius with puppy-dog eyes.

"Nope," was all Reid said turning back to his own work. He didn't want the black agent to see the smirk on his face. "Besides, I'm sure you can wipe out those files in no time by six o'clock."

"C'mon, guys. I'll be here to midnight workin' on these files without help."

Prentiss looked up from her work. "Then you'd better get to it," she said sweetly.

"Yeah, get to it," Reid added, eyes on his own file.

"Some friends you guys are," Morgan griped grabbing the first of the files, opening it. "Just when you think you know somebody. Just wait 'till you guys need something from me," he huffed, feigning hurt feelings. He wasn't angry with his teammates, he just liked to tease them.

"I promise I won't hold my breath," Emily replied not looking up from her folder.

"Neither will I," Reid replied hard at work.

Both Reid and Prentiss hid amused smirks on their faces as they continued to work. Their coworker would never realize he had been conned by them, especially Reid.

* * *

Garcia was talking to herself while her fingers raced over the keyboard. She wasn't easily frustrated, but right now she was so seriously frustrated that she didn't even notice her office door open and somebody enter.

" _Dammit!"_ she swore under her breath. Normally Garcia didn't swear, but her inability to find answers for her Unit Chief was really getting to her.

"Problem?" an amused feminine voice asked. The tech analyst didn't turn around recognizing the voice as JJ's.

"What can I do for you, Sunshine?" Garcia asked.

JJ came closer and leaned over to get a look over Garcia's shoulder to get a closer look at the computer screen. She frowned when she saw what was on the screen.

"You remember Hotch gave us orders…"

"I know what Bossman said. But I just couldn't help myself. Just promise me you won't spill the beans to Hotch."

JJ smiled. "Your secret is safe with me." She moved closer. Garcia, in turn, paused what she was doing and looked up at her friend.

"You need something?" she asked.

"I guess it's true when they say great minds think alike."

"What d'ya mean?"

"What I mean is I got bored with reviewing cases to see which ones the team should work. So, I was going to sneak down here, and see if I can get you to do a little research for me. But I can see I don't have to do that."

Garcia smiled sweetly discovering she and the media liaison were on the same wavelength. "What do you want to know, JJ?"

"What can you tell me?"

"Not much," Garcia replied turning back to her screen. "In fact, as far as Colonel Hogan is concerned, all I could find out is he worked as a logistics officer for the Pentagon…whatever that is."

"That's a member of the Armed Forces who oversees their personnel at home and abroad."

Garcia, mouth hanging open, stared back at JJ. "How do you know that?"

JJ grinned. "Will's father was in the navy before he became a detective on the police force. He was a logistics officer for the Navy."

"Oh…cool…" Garcia replied and turned back to her screen.

"How about Hogan's wife and kids?" JJ asked.

"There's plenty on Mrs. Hogan aka Marie Monet. She was French, and to my surprise a leader in the French resistance. She apparently met Hogan in Germany after the war, and they married and had four children…two boys and two girls. Now, as far as the children go, the boys both entered the military like their father, and are both logistics officers. But the girls are a different thing all together. One girl became a scientist with the CDC while the other taught college French to upper classmen. Both are long since retired with the teacher living in the land of the Eiffel Tower, and the scientist still residing in Connecticut where Colonel Hogan was born."

"How about the others?"

"I was able to find a few things but not much, but a bit more than I did when researching Colonel Hogan."

"How so?"

"Corporal LeBeau left the military after the war and returned to France. He married, had three children, and opened a restaurant. But several years later he, his wife, and two of his three children were killed in a car accident in 1997. His surviving son, Francois, now runs the restaurant in Paris. Now, finding the 411 on Corporal Newkirk on the other hand, was as difficult as it was Hogan. Seems that after the war, he joined MI-6 and stayed until his death in 2000. But like Hogan, what he did is classified. (1)"

JJ brushed a strand of long blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Well that makes sense," she admitted.

"Quite true."

"What else can you tell me?"

"Well, I managed to find a little bit on that sexy Sgt. Kinchloe…" She looked back with a grin.

"Oh? You'd better not let Morgan hear you say that. You'll deflate his overblown male ego."

Garcia turned to her screen again. "Perish the thought my sweet," she said. "Derek Morgan will always be numero uno on my hit parade. But that doesn't mean I can't still look."

"Gotcha. What else did you find?"

"Sgt. Kinchloe, after the war, became Hogan's aide in the Pentagon. He also married, and hang on to your hats, an African princess." (2)

JJ's eyes widened in shock. "Where did he meet an African princess?"

"It doesn't say. Anyhoo, they were married and had three daughters all of whom are housewives and living normal lives."

"How about Sergeant or Lieutenant Carter?"

"Still nothing on Sergeant Carter, but on Lieutenant Carter I discovered he had escaped from Stalag 5 during the war which was a Stalag exclusively for officers. But after he escaped, nothing was ever seen or heard from him again until after the war. He returned to a place called Bull Frog, North Dakota. He became a pharmacist in a drug store, married a girl named Mary Jane, and had four boys. Oh…that's so sad…" (3) (4).

"What's sad?"

"Years later he and his family all perished in a house fire of unknown origin."

JJ mulled over what she had been told so far. "What about Hotch's grandfather?" she asked.

Garcia let out a deep breath. "Nothing on his time at Stalag 13 just like everybody else. Only info I found was before he landed in that POW camp, and that is sketchy as best. I'm telling you, JJ, this stuff is really kinda weird."

"I agree. Have you been able to get past the confidentiality restrictions?"

"I tried. I really, really did. But even moi, with all my technological genius, was unable to penetrate it." She looked back at JJ. "Would you believe I can't even find any death records in Stalag 13? Now _that's_ weird!"

"Are you serious?"

"Completely. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Zip. I'm telling you, I find this weirder than an episode of The Twilight Zone. I mean, Rod Serling wouldn't even believe this." (5)

JJ straightened herself and sighed. "Okay, print all this out for me and Emily as we have to check out the children of these guys."

Garcia pressed her print button. "Consider it done, Buttercup. I was gonna print it out for Hotch, Reid and Rossi anyway."

"Thanks. I'd better let you get back to work. Thanks again, Garcia."

"You're welcome. Now get outta here before Hotch gets suspicious and come looking for you if he isn't already."

With a smile, JJ waved at her friend as she opened the door. Garcia chuckled with a wide smile as she watched the media liaison walk out the door, closing it behind her.

* * *

(1) MI-6 is a British military intelligence agency which supplies the British government with foreign intelligence.

(2) Kinch masquerading as an African prince meets a princess in The Prince from the Phone Company, Season 1.

(3) Bullfrog, North Dakota is where Andrew Carter was born was mentioned in Everybody Loves a Snowman, Season 3.

(4) Sgt. Andrew Carter, who escaped from Stalag 5, was really a Lieutenant in the pilot The Informer, Season 1. His rank was changed to sergeant to allow him to stay at Stalag 13.

(5) Rod Serling created and hosted The Twilight Zone from 10/2/1959 to 1964.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Hotch sighed as he scrawled his signature on the bottom of the report in front of him and tossed the folder into his out-box. He had no idea how many files he had reviewed and signed. All he knew was that he was emotionally and physically exhausted. As he ran both hands down his face, he leaned back in his chair and shook his head. Glancing through the blinds, he saw the bullpen was vacant except for a few agents scattered here and there, but members of his own team were not to seen. He let out a deep breath as someone knocked gently on his closed door.

"Come in," he ordered suspecting who it might be. He grinned when the door opened and Rossi walked inside his office.

"Everybody else seems to have gone home, so why are you still here?" he asked looking at the older man.

"I should be asking you the same question. You do know it's almost seven-thirty?"

Glancing at his own watch, Aaron noticed his friend was right. He failed at stifling a yawn.

"Go home, Aaron," Rossi suggested. "This place will still be here tomorrow."

"In a little while. I want to read a bit more of the journal first. I promise I won't stay late."

Rossi chuckled. "Why don't I believe that?"

"I have no idea. Now go home. You look like crap anyway."

Rossi smirked. "Thanks. You're not so bad-looking yourself." He opened the door and stood in the doorway looking back at his friend. "I don't wanna find out you stayed here overnight."

Hotch chuckled. "Get out of here. Goodnight."

"Goodnight yourself. See you tomorrow." He walked out of the door closing it behind him leaving Hotch alone.

After a minute of being alone, Hotch pulled out the journal and resumed reading.

 _ **(Flashback – Early to Mid-April, 1944):**_

After several weeks, Sergeant Hotchner had recovered from his arm injury. And thanks to Kinch, had learned enough of the basics of chess to at least stand a slight chance against Klink, but promptly lost three straight games. Not that he really tried, but he had hoped this would put an end to having to play chess with the Kommandant. So he groaned inwardly when following roll call one evening, Klink approached him hoping to talk him into playing another game. He glanced sideways at Hogan silently begging for help.

Hogan rolled his eyes skyward when he heard what the Kommandant asked his man. Klink had been more insufferable than normal since he won those three games with what he called 'German superiority', and Hogan knew it. He wasn't about to let the Kommandant rub things in his man's face.

"Kommandant, can I have a word privately?"

Klink approached his American counterpart and leaned his head close so they could converse privately.

"What is it, Hogan?" the German officer asked. "I'm a busy man. Also, I'd like a rematch with your man who between you and me, isn't really a very good player."

"I realize that, sir. That's why I must insist you forget wanting to play him again."

"Why? Is he afraid he's going to lose again?" A smirk appeared on Klink's face.

"No, sir. The truth is you and I both know he isn't very good. And considering your brilliance at the game, why would you want to play a man so obviously beneath your talent? I mean…people might begin to talk."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying people might say that you only play people you can easily defeat because you're afraid to play a really good player."

Klink's mouth formed an 'O' as he stared at Hogan. "You really think so?"

"Yes, sir, I do. And trust me, you don't want that going around knowing you, Kommandant."

"No, I wouldn't. That's extremely considerate of you, Hogan. Very well, I will no longer try and talk Sergeant Hotchner into playing another game."

"Thank you, Kommandant."

"You're welcome." Klink then walked toward Hotchner. He was now wearing his 'fierce' expression which in itself was laughable. Fortunately, he didn't see Hogan's amused smirk as he had his back to him. "Sergeant Hotchner, about our game. Forget it. I've decided it wouldn't be fair of me to take advantage of your uh…lack of skill at the game."

Schultz who had been standing nearby, rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Oh, boy," he muttered. "What a snow job."

"What was that, Schultz?!" Klink bellowed turning his head toward the rotund sergeant. "I didn't hear you! Stop mumbling!"

Schultz swallowed nervously as his eyes nearly popped out of his head with the Kommandant glaring at him.

"I was only saying that was extremely generous of you, Herr Kommandant," hoping he sounded genuine.

Klink puffed out his chest like a peacock. "It was, wasn't it. Thank you, Schultz."

Hogan sighed shaking his head.

Hotchner smiled feigning gratitude as he continued. "Thank you, sir. You're such a master at the game, and I have so much to learn if I'm ever gonna be on the same level as you. And frankly, sir, I'd rather not humiliate myself further. So thank you again."

Klink turned back to the young man. "You're welcome." He then glanced at the Sergeant-of-the-Guard again with his command face. "Schuuuuuulllltzzzzz, dismiss your men!" He abruptly turned and stomped away not waiting for Schultz to salute him.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant! All prisoners are dismissed!"

Hogan and his men dispersed and disappeared into their barracks to turn in for the night.

For the next few weeks Hogan and his men kept busy rescuing downed fliers, and aiding the underground when they needed help. Other than that, there was not much else to occupy themselves.

But that was all about to change when a mission came their way which would have a serious and possibly fatal impact on them.

 _ **(Early May, 1944):**_

Hogan was studying the map in the tunnel while Kinch and Hotchner were checking the radio equipment to make certain everything was working properly.

Ever since London gave Hogan and his men their orders twenty-four hours earlier, Hogan decided Kinch, Hotchner, Newkirk, LeBeau, Olsen, and Carter would plant the explosives. But first he needed to know what security there was so there would be no surprises. And for that he had Kinch contact the local underground and have them check it out and get back to him. He glanced at the time when from the corner of his eye he spotted Hotchner and Kinch approaching.

"Problem, sir?" Hotchner asked, concerned.

"Not at the moment," Hogan responded. "At least I hope not. I requested the underground send a few of their people to scout the bridge and get back to us." He checked the time again and appeared a bit annoyed. "I hope whoever the underground sent gets back to us soon." He let out a deep breath. "We don't need any surprises. I sent LeBeau to escort the operative back here with the report."

"I'm sure everything's all right," Kinch said.

Hogan nodded as he turned back to studying the map spread out on the table. "Where are Newkirk and Carter?"

Hotchner was the first to respond. "I saw Carter in his lab and Newkirk head in the direction of the sewing room," he said. "Want me to go fetch one of them, Colonel?"

"No, that won't be nec…" Hogan began when the sound of voices caught the men's attention causing them to look in the direction from which the voices came. One of the voices they recognized as being LeBeau, but only Hogan and Kinch recognized the other voice, a female voice. A smile appeared right away hearing the feminine voice. A smile that reached Hogan's eyes. His smile widened as he spotted who it was as she walked behind the little Frenchman.

"Tiger," he said as she came into view. Kinch smiled warmly seeing her. "What are you doing here?"

Tiger, approaching Hogan, promptly wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips against his kissing him passionately. Hogan's arms encircled her waist and pressed her against him, feeling himself growing excited by her presence. But suddenly he remembered where he was and that they weren't alone, so he quickly pulled back.

Hotchner's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he stared at what had to be the most stunningly beautiful woman he had ever seen. _Wow! What a hot babe! Too bad she's already taken,_ he thought watching the colonel and the woman in a lip lock.

Tiger was the leader of the French Underground, and worked closely with Hogan and his men when necessary. Her reddish gold hair was done up in a bun with single ringlets on each side of her head. She wore gold hoop earrings highlighted by her burgundy sweater which hugged her slender waist, and a black skirt just below her knees. She smiled looking up at the Colonel with her long lashes and deep brown eyes, keeping her arms around his neck. As far as she was concerned, there was nobody else present but the two of them at the moment. "Mon Amour, you are not happy to see me? You are angry with Tiger, oui?"

"Yes…I mean no," Hogan stammered. "I'm always glad to see you. It's just that I'm expecting a member of the underground with a surveillance report on what security is posted at the Schweinfurt Bridge."

Tiger grinned and planted another kiss on the colonel's lips.

"I am here with the surveillance report," she giggled while nuzzling his neck.

Hogan pulled back staring. "You?"

Tiger smiled sweetly. "Oui. Me."

A smirking LeBeau sided up to Hotchner seeing his expression and leaned sideways. "She is beautiful, non?"

"She's gorgeous, yes. Who is she?" he asked still enthralled.

"She is Tiger, and she and Mon Colonel are involved. So I suggest you do not try anything with her. Besides having to deal with the Colonel, Tiger is, how should I put it, more than capable of breaking every bone in your body."

Hotchner stared at the little Frenchman and swallowed nervously at the last sentence. He closed his mouth and tried to stop staring at Tiger. He wasn't exactly sure he believed LeBeau, but he certainly didn't want to get on Hogan's bad side...or hers.

"How are you, Tiger?" asked Kinch.

She smiled warmly at Kinch. "Just fine, Sergeant." It was then she noticed Hotchner and her brows knitted in amusement. She hadn't met this man before now. "Robert, who is this man who is staring at me?"

Hogan gave Hotchner a warning stare. "Marie, meet the newest member of our team, Sergeant Aaron Hotchner. Sergeant, meet Marie Monet known as Tiger to the underground."

"Ma'am," was all Hotchner could utter.

"Sergeant. I am pleased to make your acquaintance," she said with a smile.

Hotchner smiled. "Pleasure's all mine, ma'am."

Now that the amenities had been taken care of, Hogan put his arm around Tiger's waist, and led her to the table where the map was. She studied it closely.

"What can you tell us about the security on the Schweinfurt Bridge?" Hogan asked getting down to business.

Tiger pointed to the spot marking the bridge on the map. "The bridge is patrolled day and night and eight guards are posted each time," she explained. "They change men every eight hours so the troops are always rested and ready. From the uniforms, I would say they are Heer. (1) From my contact in town, the convoy is scheduled to cross the bridge at 2300 hours tomorrow night. Do you plan to destroy both the bridge and the convoy?" she asked looking up at Hogan.

"That's the plan. That convoy's carrying weapons heading for the Russian Front and London wants it stopped."

Tiger let out a deep breath. "Ordinarily you wouldn't have any problem, but my people told me that the Gestapo have been spotted lurking around the bridge as well because of earlier attempts. You and your people must be careful." Hogan stared into her eyes and saw love, fear, and worry. He smiled and kissed the top of her head. (2)

"Aren't I always?" he smirked.

But she was still worried. "Yes you are, my love. But my people have reported that the guards have orders to shoot-to-kill anybody suspicious on sight."

Kinch stared at her with narrowed eyes. "Are they that worried about the convoy?" he asked.

Tiger shook her head. "Non. But Major Hochstetter's monitoring things from his end because of all the sabotage in the area. There is no telling what he may do if there's trouble at the bridge."

LeBeau snorted his annoyance. "Leave it to the Gestapo to take all the fun out of things." He then looked into his commander's face. "Do you want to postpone the mission, Colonel?"

"No. We're going for both the bridge and convoy tomorrow night. We have our orders. What we need is a way to not make Hochstetter suspicious when we blow that bridge and convoy." His eyes fell on Tiger. "Would you like to join us? We can use the extra help."

"I'm afraid I can't. I wanted to report on the security at the bridge, because I also have to tell you my news."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, my love. It's just that I am leaving for France to help with several underground matters. So we must say goodbye for awhile."

"How long will you be gone?" Hogan felt his heart breaking already. He would worry about her the entire time she was gone, and relax only when she was safely back in his arms again.

"I do not know. A few days at least, maybe longer."

Hogan smiled sadly. "I'll miss you."

"And I will miss you. But I shall be back before you realize it. And I promise I'll be careful."

"You'd better," Hogan ordered her gently and kissed her forehead.

"Veuillez prendre soin de vous et d'etre prudenti," LeBeau remarked with a worried expression. (3)

"Je promets." (4)

It was then that Hotchner's eyes widened in terror and he wished he had a weapon when he saw who was approaching the small group. What would happen to them now that they had been found out? How did he get into the tunnels? Only then did Hogan, Tiger, Kinch and LeBeau spot the stranger in their midst. Hotchner swallowed nervously. _How did one of the enemy find them?_

* * *

(1) Heer is the German Army.

(2) Gestapo was Germany's secret police.

(3) "Veuillez prende soin de vous et d'etre prudenti" means "Please take care of yourself and be careful."

(4) "Je promets" means "I promise."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: The character of Gestapo Captain Fritz Fuchs aka 'Bluebird' is being used with the permission of his creator Jennaya.**

 **Chapter 15**

"Colonel…" Hotchner began his eyes boring a hole in their intruder's head. He so wished he had a weapon at his disposal right now. It was strange that none of the others seemed the least bit perturbed by this person's presence. Why hadn't any of them see the danger now that their operation had so obviously been found out? Why wasn't anybody doing anything?

A slow smile crossed Hogan's face as he stepped toward the intruder holding out his hand. The tall blond, blue-eyed man who was the same height as Hogan, shook the Colonel's hand. But what startled Hotchner more than anything was that this man wore the black uniform of the Gestapo.

"Bluebird, it's been awhile since you've paid us a visit. I hope you coming here is a social call."

Hotchner's jaw dropped, stunned that the colonel was holding a normal conversation with this man, and showing no concern.

"Nein, my friend," the man answered shaking the colonel's hand. He then smiled at Tiger who approached, stood on tip-toes, and kissed him on the cheek with hands resting on his broad shoulders. He hugged her in a friendly manner.

"How are you, captain?" she asked.

"Gut." The German's eyes fell on Hotchner and quirked an eyebrow seeing the man's harsh stare. "I seem to be having an effect on one of your men, Colonel."

Hogan glanced at Hotchner. "Fritz, meet the newest member of my team, Sergeant Aaron Hotchner. Sergeant, Captain Fritz Fuchs also known as Bluebird, is a good friend of ours, and second-in-command to Major Hochstetter."

"I'm pleased to meet you, sergeant," Fuchs held out a hand only to drop it when Hotchner stared at it with disgust. But Fuchs was used to that reaction when people met him and chuckled. He held up his hands in a non-threatening manner.

"But…but sir…he's Gestapo! A real Gestapo officer!"

"I am also an agent of the underground who wants to rid my country of Hitler and his goons. I want Germany to be free and its people to not live in fear. I will do whatever I need do to help the Allies win the war. Also…" he chuckled. "I am the nice Gestapo." Kinch, Hogan, LeBeau and Tiger laughed but Hotchner continued to stare at the German. He wasn't quite ready to accept the man despite the assurances of his commanding officer and Tiger.

Hotchner turned away from Fuchs and faced the Colonel. "You trust this man, sir?" he asked still warily keeping an eye on the German.

"With my life, and the lives of my men, and Tiger," Hogan assured him in his command voice.

"Oui, and I too trust him," Tiger stated. "He is a good man and a loyal friend."

Once he softened his stance just a little, Hotchner stuck out his hand which Fuchs shook. The German was mindful that this man still didn't entirely trust him despite what Hogan had said. But people often reacted the same way when people first saw him in full Gestapo regalia.

In fact, he walked a fine line as second-in-command to the head of the Hammelburg Gestapo, Major Wolfgang Hochstetter. Being able to fool Hochstetter was a lot harder than fooling Kommandant Wilhelm Klink, and even Hogan agreed with that. But one slip-up, even a tiny one with Hochstetter, would result in an ugly death for Fuchs and his family. And also for Hogan and his men along with many in the underground.

"Nice to meet you," Fuchs repeated. Hotchner simply nodded in his direction. It was strange having an actual Gestapo officer working with them, much less as a member of the underground. But he did not know all the members of the underground, and finding out one of them was a Gestapo officer was not one he had expected. Still, he was willing to give the man a chance but keep an eye on him when he was around at the same time.

"Captain…" he replied.

"What brings you by, Fritz?" Hogan asked worriedly. "You always contact us by radio if you have something to pass onto us."

"True, but this news I thought best be delivered in person."

"What is it?" asked Kinch with crossed arms.

"I understand you are to blow up the Schweinfurt Bridge and the convoy tomorrow night," Fuchs stated watching the Colonel's face.

"We are," Hogan answered. "But Tiger's informed us that the Gestapo has taken an interest in the bridge mainly because of prior attempts and the convoy."

"Ja, they have. But I believe I can help with that."

Hogan arched an eyebrow. "How?"

"Major Hochstetter took two-week's leave and left two days ago, leaving me in charge. He has gone to Bamberg to visit his ailing mother. I can keep the Gestapo away from the bridge tomorrow night by reassigning them to another target. That should make things somewhat easier for you."

"What target did you have in mind?" asked Kinch with a smirk.

"I can reassign them to the ammo dump ten kilometers from the bridge."

"But we aren't blowing up an ammo dump," Hotchner said, confused.

Fuchs smiled. "The men I'm assigning don't know that, sergeant." He then looked at Hogan. "I hope this will help, Colonel."

"It definitely will," Hogan concurred. "The only thing we'll have to deal with then will be the Heer."

Fuchs let out a deep breath. "Unfortunately we have no authority over the Heer or I would reassign them as well and leave the bridge totally unguarded for you and your men."

"You mean there really is a heart beating beneath that Swastika with Hochstetter?" joked LeBeau.

"LeBeau…" Hogan warned.

"Sorry, Colonel," the little Frenchman bowed his head.

Hogan shook hands with the German and grinned. "Thank you, my friend."

"Sie sind willkommen," The captain replied with a grin of his own. (1)

Hogan hugged Tiger close to him and gazed into her eyes, and she into his. Then he again faced Fuchs. "I have a favor I need to ask of you," he said.

"What do you need?" the German asked with an eyebrow arched in surprise.

"Tiger is leaving tonight for France. I would appreciate it if you can escort her from here to her home. There are guards roaming the woods and I would rest better knowing she was safe with you. This way if anyone sees her you can always claim you arrested her. Nobody would dare argue with you."

"It would be my pleasure." Both men spotted Tiger pouting, her lower lip sticking out like that of a small petulant child and exchanged looks with each other.

"What's wrong?" Hogan asked her with raised eyebrows.

"If we are stopped, I hoped I would be able to get in a little target practice before I leave for Paris," she complained.

Hotchner's eyes widened knowing what Tiger was indicating without saying it. He leaned toward LeBeau. "She's not serious, is she?"

LeBeau smirked at Hotchner and winked. "Oui, she is."

* * *

After Tiger and Fuchs left the tunnels, Hogan gathered the rest of his team and relayed to them Tiger's and Fuchs' information. When he finished, he pulled down a map with a detailed sketch of the bridge and its surroundings. He grabbed a pointer preparing to point out the areas that were important.

"Before we go over the plan again," the officer began. "Are there any questions about what Tiger and Bluebird told us?" He noticed Carter raising his hand. "Carter?"

"Sir, did Hochstetter really go visit his mom in Bamberg?"

Newkirk rolled his eyes skyward while Kinch shook his head and chuckled, and LeBeau mumbled something in French.

Hogan was momentarily speechless as he stared at the young sergeant. He always marveled at the young man's naiveté, but sometimes he did ask dumb questions but couldn't help it.

"Carter, why would you ask a bleedin' stupid question like that? What could ole Hochstetter visitin' his mum have to do with anything?" asked the Englander.

Carter shrugged his shoulders and stared at his best friend. "None I guess," he said. "It's just that I can't picture somebody like Hochstetter even having a mother. He's so mean."

"Blimey," Newkirk muttered with a shake of his head.

"Vous pouvez etre un tel imbecile parfois, Andre," LeBeau complained staring at the young man (2).

"All right you guys, leave Carter alone," Hogan ordered. He faced Carter. "It doesn't matter why Hochstetter went to Bamberg, and I don't really care why. Fact of the matter is he did and left Fuchs in charge. So thanks to Bluebird, we don't have to worry about the Gestapo. Just the Heer. Does that answer your question?"

"Not really, sir. It's just that…"

"Quit you're natterin', Andrew," Newkirk interrupted. "You heard the Gov'nor. It doesn't matter none why he went to Bamberg. Fact is he went, so he's out of our way. And that's good enough for me, mate." (3) (4)

"But I…"

"No buts, mon ami," LeBeau said. "We do not care why that filthy Bosche went away. I for one, am glad he is gone." He faced his commanding officer. "Go ahead, Mon Colonel and tell us again what we are to do tomorrow night."

Hogan, after he took a deep breath, began going over what they were to do to distract the Heer, and where to plant the explosives."

* * *

Bluebird and Tiger walked side-by-side to his car which had been parked about a mile away from the tree stump entrance/exit of Stalag 13. And so far they had not run into any guards in the dark.

"Merci, captain," Tiger said glancing sideways at Fuchs.

"For what?" he asked with arched eyebrows studying her.

"For seeing me home," she smiled. "I am grateful."

He chuckled. "You don't have to thank me. It is my pleasure."

Once he reached his car, Fuchs opened the passenger side back door and stood aside to allow Tiger to enter. But before she did, she paused and reached under her skirt and withdrew a pistol which she kept in a holster strapped around her thigh. Fuchs eyes widened watching her hold it up eye-level for him to see. She smiled widely.

"I told you I might need target practice," she teased him playfully.

"Don't let anybody see you with that," Fuchs explained. "Just to be safe, keep your hands behind your back as if you are handcuffed, and keep the weapon behind you in case we run into trouble."

"You are worried?"

"Nein. But there might be a roadblock along the way, and there could be trouble. And if a problem arises, it will come in handy."

"Oui, I will do as you ask." Tiger climbed into the back of the car and Fuchs closed the door before sliding into the driver's seat. After he pulled away from the curb, he drove down the street on his way to Tiger's house. He had been driving for nearly fifteen minutes when he spotted possible trouble up ahead.

"Roadblock ahead," he said softly to Tiger without glancing behind him. He felt her lowering her head and looking downward. He slowed his car and stopped when the two armed guards held up their hands and one ordering him to stop. Both men were aiming their weapons at the driver's side of the windshield.

"Halt!" one man, a sergeant, ordered.

Fuchs poked his head out the driver's side window.

"Was ist los, sergeant?" he asked glaring at the man in a way which sent shivers down the man's spine. (5) Tiger tensed and tightened her grip on her weapon.

The sergeant, recognizing Fuchs' rank and that he was Gestapo, lowered his weapon and saluted the senior officer. He motioned for the other guard, a private, to lower his weapon as well which the man did and like his teammate, saluted.

"I apologize, Herr Captain, but we are checking all vehicles for saboteurs because of a possible threat against the bridge." While he spoke with Fuchs, the private walked to the back of the car and stared at Tiger who, with head bowed, feigned looking defeated and terrified. She glanced up apprehensively at the guard and quickly averted her eyes.

"Who is this, Captain?" he asked studying her.

Fuchs smirked and looked back at the private. "She is an underground agent I arrested in the area and am taking her in for questioning. So far she isn't talking."

The sergeant leered at Tiger with a twisted grin. "I'm sure _we_ can make her talk." He grinned at his private who was also staring at Tiger with lust. Their expressions weren't lost on Fuchs who understood exactly what these men had in mind.

"Nein," Fuchs said coldly.

Although her head was bowed, Tiger studied both men out of the corner of her eyes, her hand tightening its grip even more on the hidden weapon.

"If you're worried she might escape, you can watch while we uh…question her," said the sergeant licking his lips, inappropriate thoughts running through his mind.

Fuchs' blue eyes narrowed as he glared at the guard. "I said _nein,_ sergeant! And don't be worried, I assure you Major Hochstetter will make her talk."

Both men, still leering at Tiger, swallowed nervously hearing the major's name and recognizing it. They looked at each other with terrified looks. The major's reputation preceded him having no tolerance for anybody, even his own men, if getting in his way or interfering with his prisoners.

"That will not be necessary, captain. We know the Gestapo is extremely thorough when questioning prisoners. He waved his hand at Fuchs. "You may go ahead. We are sorry to have detained you."

Fuchs grinned coolly as he started forward. "Keep up the good work, sergeant," he smirked. As he drove away, he sensed Tiger let out the breath she had been holding. When they were a safe distance away, the officer stopped his car, turned around, and faced the woman as she put her hands in her lap, fingering her weapon.

"Merci," she said.

Fuchs chuckled. "Sorry if I deprived you of your need for target practice," he joked.

Tiger smiled coyly. "Je suis desole, aussi." Then her face hardened. "Je voulais vraiment punir ces batards!" (6) (7)

Fuchs could only nod his head understanding. With a sigh, he turned back and continued driving again. He realized that incident was too close for comfort for both of them.

* * *

Hotch lowered the journal onto his desk, closed his tired eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't believe what he had just read. He rubbed his weary eyes again before staring out the window behind his couch and noticed it was now dark. Curious as to the time, he stared at his watch and was stunned to find it near midnight. He couldn't believe he had stayed this long in the office.

* * *

(1) 'Sie sind willkommen' means 'You are welcome.'

(2) 'Vous pouvez etre un tel imbecile parfois, Andre' means 'You can be such an imbecile sometimes, Andrew.' Translation by Google Translate.

(3) Natterin' means chatter.

(4) Gov'nor is the cockney version of Governor.

(5) "Was ist los?' means 'What is going on?'

(6) 'Je suis desole, aussi' means 'I am sorry too.' Translation by Google Translate.

(7) 'Je voulais vraiment punir ces batards! Means 'I really wanted to punish those bastards!' Translation by Google Translate.


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: The site's acting up again so I couldn't post this update directly. This is my first attempt cutting and posting my update.**_

 **Chapter 16**

Hotch packed his briefcase as he prepared to go home and get a few hours of much needed sleep. He grabbed his briefcase and walked toward his office door, gripping the door handle and opening the door. He turned off his office light and started to walk out when his telephone rang stopping him. With a groan he turned, put his briefcase on the desk, and picked up the receiver.

"Hotchner…" he said wearily.

"How did I know you'd still be there…" a familiar voice said causing Hotch to roll his eyes skyward. Even though he'd never be able to prove it, he still wondered if Rossi had a small camera hidden somewhere in his office. He wouldn't put it past the older man.

"Why are you calling me here and at this hour?"

Rossi chuckled on the other end. "I knew you'd still be in your office despite you telling me you wouldn't stay late. You can't fool me."

"Why are you even still up at this hour? It's after midnight."

Again Rossi chuckled. "Wouldn't you like to know, my friend."

This time it was Aaron who chuckled. "Or should I say is it a someone that has you still up at this hour?"

There was silence for several seconds. "I'll never tell."

"Goodbye, Dave," Hotch smirked and hung up the receiver before Rossi even uttered a reply. He grabbed his briefcase again and left his office heading for the elevator to go to the underground garage.

Hotch stepped out of the elevator when it reached the underground garage, and walked toward his vehicle parked in its designated spot. He tossed his briefcase onto the back seat and closed the door. Then opening the driver's side door, he slid behind the steering wheel, turned on the ignition, and headed toward home.

* * *

Rossi chuckled as he hung up the receiver, then picked up his favorite bottle of Scotch and poured some into a tumbler. He took a sip, and let the amber liquid slide down his throat and closed his eyes, sighing contentedly. Then with an amused grin, he sat down in his favorite recliner and took another sip. He glanced over the arm of the chair, and found his hunting dog, a black Labrador named Mudgie, stretched out on the floor. He was snoring gently as he slept. A little 'woof' was heard.

Rossi chuckled and scratched the sleeping dog's head. "You have a pleasant dream eh, boy? Good for you." Another 'woof' was heard but the dog remained asleep.

Rossi smirked having called his best friend at this hour. But he had really wanted to check on him. He knew Hotch so well, better than the younger man even knew himself. Rossi always believed it his personal responsibility to look after Hotch. After all, someone needed to make sure Aaron took care of himself as the man didn't do it himself. And although the team looked after each other in the field, he made caring for the younger man his personal goal in life. The man was a single parent, and he and the team refused to let Jack lose his dad too, both in the field or not.

With a grin reminiscent of a misbehaving child, he drained his tumbler before he got out of his recliner. He walked into his kitchen, rinsed his glass, and sat it on the counter to dry before returning to his living room. With a glance at his wall clock noticing the late hour, he headed for the stairs leading to his master bedroom. Certain that Aaron was now heading home, he needed to get a few hours sleep himself.

* * *

Penelope Garcia, despite the late hour, sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed with her personal laptop on her lap, typing furiously. Unable to sleep, she had decided to continue her research into her boss's mystery. Hopefully she found something that the others could use to complete the tasks Hotch had given them the day before yesterday.

She understood she wouldn't have any luck finding anything on Hogan or his men, so she instead turned her attention to Hogan's widow, Marie Monet. As the French woman had never been in the military, she figured she might have better luck finding something on her.

"C'mon, baby. C'mon," she murmured as she waited for what she had input on her laptop to show a response. It didn't take long for her perseverance to be rewarded.

"That's it, baby. Show me what you got…." she murmured before a smile crossed her face. There, on the screen, was a picture of Marie Monet. "God, she was a real beauty." Garcia began to read what she had found. Her eyes widened. "Holy moly!" she gasped continuing to read before striking the print button.

* * *

Spencer Reid stopped at one of the local libraries after work, and checked out as many books as he could carry in his messenger bag and hands before heading home. Once he arrived, he changed into an FBI tee-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and stretched out on his bed. Beside him were two stacks of books on World War Two, Prisoners-of-War camps, and POWs held in Germany. He had finished reading twenty books so far in about two hours. Able to read 20,000 words a minute, he'd finish the rest of them before he had to get up at five-thirty in the morning for work.

He realized he should have been asleep, but a mind like his was too wired up to be able to shut off thus allowing him to sleep. And at times like this, reading was one thing he often used to unwind. But so far even reading hadn't worked.

He had read plenty on POWs in other camps, and about other camps, but nowhere did he find anything on any of the prisoners in Stalag 13. He had found plenty on a Kommandant Wilhelm Klink, his guards, even members of the Gestapo, but nothing on the prisoners themselves. And to say he found this more than a bit disconcerting was an understatement. And despite his eidetic memory, even he had no idea why this was. But he was determined to find the answer.

* * *

JJ lay, wide awake, on her side of the bed in her darkened bedroom. She didn't sleep well when alone. And since her husband Will LaMontagne, and their son Henry, were out of town visiting his mother, she hugged her husband's pillow tightly against her. It still had his scent on it, and she hoped inhaling it would relax her enough to allow her to fall sleep. But it didn't work this time, and she still found herself wide awake. So, she turned her mind to Hotch and his situation.

With a weary sigh, JJ threw back the covers and climbed out of her bed. She walked across the room, and pulled a small stool near the dresser beside the closed window. After she sat down, she rested an elbow on the window sill, put her chin in the palm of her hand, and stared out into the darkness. There was nothing or anybody outside, but somehow she found the quiet darkness comforting. Still thinking about her boss, she looked around the room before her blue eyes landed on the telephone on one nightstand. And for a single moment, she thought about calling Prentiss, but changed her mind. Just because she was awake didn't give her the right to wake someone else up who might be asleep. She turned back to gazing out the window.

She had no idea how long she looked out the window, but before long, she became aware of the sky lightening and realized daylight was starting.

* * *

Emily Prentiss sat on her sofa in the darkness of her home, her legs drawn up with her knees under her chin, and a glass of Chianti in one hand.

She had been sipping her red wine slowly, savoring the taste while in her mind thoughts of Aaron Hotchner were replayed over and over again. She found herself wondering if the team could help their boss find answers to all his questions, and solve the mystery his grandfather had created with his journal.

After she took another sip of wine, Prentiss moved a strand of her dark hair over her shoulder before taking another drink. For a split second she thought about perhaps calling her mother, the Ambassador, but she dismissed that thought as soon as it came to her. They were dealing with the military she reminded herself. And there would be nothing her mother could do to help anyway.

Also, Hotch had ordered them not to discuss the matter with anybody outside the team, and none of them would ever violate that trust.

* * *

Derek Morgan lay naked on his side in bed in the dark wide awake. He glanced over his shoulder at his companion, and found her still to be asleep. He smiled because the woman was a neighbor and he had met her for dinner. After dinner, they went back to his place where one thing led to another, and they soon found themselves in his bedroom.

Being as quiet as he could, he threw back his covers and put his feet on the floor. He crouched down and felt around the floor until he found his boxers. And as quietly as possible, got to his feet and put them on covering himself. Then with a sigh, he walked out of his bedroom and into the kitchen where he opened his refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. He twisted the cap off, and took a long drink of the cold water.

He suspected Garcia was probably awake and working on her home computer as he knew his Baby Girl. When he arrived at work, he would find out what she had found. And then would help her find a way to cut through the red tape so she could get other information she hadn't been able to earlier.

He figured since he wouldn't get anymore sleep tonight, Morgan went about preparing a pot of coffee.

* * *

Dave Rossi walked through the double doors and into the BAU. When he glanced upward, he spotted the lights on in Hotch's office and the man in question appeared to be working at his desk. He smirked not the least bit surprised. Hotch always was the first to arrive and the last to leave. Rossi hurried to and up the steps to the catwalk, and rapped on Hotch's office door. He entered the younger man's office not waiting for a response to his knocking. Hotch looked up as his door opened, not surprised to see the older man. But it was Rossi who was surprised at what his best friend was doing. Hotch was not working on case files, but instead had the journal open in front of him. He closed the office door.

"Whoa…" Rossi started seeing what his friend was doing and sat down in one of the two chairs in front of Hotch's desk and crossing his legs. "What ever happened to only doing FBI work during work hours? Or did you forget you told your team that?"

Hotch chuckled. "I remember what I said. It's just that after last night, I got caught up in reading and found out something unexpected. I wanted to read more before the rest of the team arrived."

"What did you find out?"

Hotch let out a deep breath. "Seems like there was a French woman named Marie Monet aka Tiger, and a Gestapo Captain named Fritz Fuchs."

"Tiger, eh? Only reason someone had a code name like that was if they were working undercover."

"She was."

"In what way?"

"She was leader of the French underground. Also, she was very close to Colonel Hogan."

"Close? How close?" Rossi asked with arched eyebrows.

"They apparently had a relationship. That's how close."

"I see," Rossi nodded slowly. "And what about this Gestapo Captain…Fuchs, you said his name was?"

"Yes. Appears he worked for the underground as did Tiger, and that he was second-in-command to someone named Major Wolfgang Hochstetter. He was also a good friend of Hogan's. But my grandfather apparently didn't trust this Captain Fuchs despite the assurances of both Hogan and Tiger."

"You still think what your grandfather wrote is mostly fiction?"

Hotch sighed and massaged his forehead. "I'm beginning to have my doubts to be honest. Somethings might be real. But, a Gestapo officer working for the underground, and a woman visiting Stalag 13, sounds too implausible to be true."

"You either need a good night's sleep, or you're becoming really dense."

"Why?"

"Your grandfather says there were tunnels beneath Stalag 13, so one would think anybody who was familiar with them would use them. Also, I can't believe if a Gestapo soldier who was a threat to the prisoners, would be so warmly greeted by these same prisoners."

"That makes sense, of course."

"So what do you want to do now? Still want to pursue this? Or simply drop it?"

"I have to find out the truth, Dave." Hotch checked his watch. "The team should start filtering in in about an hour or so. Can I read a bit of this to you and get your opinion?"

Rossi grinned deviously. "Sure. And just so you know, I haven't been read to since I was a child by my mother after she tucked me into bed."

Aaron smirked. "Don't be a smartass or I'll withdraw my offer." He picked up the journal and stared at the older man.

Rossi pursed his lips. "I promise to behave. Go ahead. I'm all ears."

Hotch, somehow doubting his friend would refrain from misbehaving, let his eyes return to where he had left off earlier.

* * *

 ** _(May, 1944):_**

It had rained throughout the night, all the following day, into the evening, and continued into the night again leaving it damp and chilly. Not exactly the weather the heroes liked when a mission had to be carried out later, but they had no choice. The sabotage needed to be completed tonight, or they'd lose their chance to blow up the bridge, the convoy, and stop weapons from reaching the Russian Front.

After night roll call at nine-thirty p.m., Hogan and his men assembled in the tunnels. He had decided to send six men on this assignment.

"We still have a little over an hour before you have to leave. Carter…" he looked at his young sergeant. "Are the explosives ready?"

"They sure are boy…I mean, sir," Carter said excitedly.

"Good. Olsen?"

"I'll help keep watch with Kinch while planting the explosives."

"Good." Hogan then studied Kinch. "You are gonna be in charge, Kinch. Do whatever you need to for the mission to be successful."

Hotchner looked at his commanding officer. "Colonel, my German is extremely limited. Olsen's been teaching me, but I still don't speak it well enough yet to be able to carry on a conversation."

"You'll all be wearing blacks so it won't necessary. Besides, if you're caught, not being able to speak German will be the least of your troubles, believe me. Just listen to Kinch and you shouldn't have any problems. Once the timers are set, all of you are to come straight back to camp. I don't want anybody outside the wire when that bridge and convoy blow. That means no fooling around afterwards. Am I clear on that, Carter?"

Hogan stared hard at his explosives expert in as much as the younger man often liked to stay and watch the destruction his explosives wrought on occasion.

"Don't worry none, Gov'nor," Newkirk said as he studied his friend who bowed his head and looked at the ground. "I'll make sure Carter don't dillydally around none." (1)

"But who's going to watch you, Pierre," LeBeau teased. The Englander glared at the Frenchman.

"Oh sod off!" he hissed.

"No fooling around anybody," Hogan stated in his command voice which told them all Hogan was to be taken seriously. And to disobey would mean trouble.

"Yes, sir," Kinch replied staring at the others.

"Okay, you guys need to get everything together that you're gonna need before you change into your blacks and head out **.** Then I want you to check again to make sure you didn't forget or overlook anything." Hogan again checked the time. "You guys better get started. You have to leave in a little less than an hour."

Newkirk put an arm around LeBeau's shoulders. "C'mon, little mate. You and Carter can come with me, and this way we can all make sure we don't overlook anything. How 'bout it then?"

"Oui, I suppose so," The Frenchman gazed over his shoulder. "How about you, Andre?"

"Sure," Carter replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I wouldn't want to forget anything."

The three men left together to head to the tunnel that was their Armory, then Carter's lab, and finally the changing room. Kinch started to follow them to the Armory.

"Kinch, wait a minute," Hogan said. The black man paused and turned back.

"Something wrong, Colonel?"

Hogan, his arms wrapped around himself, let out a deep breath and shook his head. There was a look on his face Kinch had never seen and became worried.

"I realize we went over everything several times, but I have a bad feeling about this mission."

"Any idea why?"

"None whatsoever. It's just a feeling I have and can't shake it. Do me a favor, will you?"

"What do you need, sir?"

"Be extra careful out there and don't let the guys take any unnecessary chances. If things start to go wrong, cancel the mission and get everybody back to camp right away. Everybody getting killed isn't worth it."

Kinch could see Hogan was dead serious. He grinned. "Don't worry about things. Nothing's gonna go wrong, and we'll blow both the bridge and the convoy. You can count on it. But I'll keep an eye on things and carry out your orders if things start going wrong. So try not to worry."

Hogan smiled weakly. But even Kinch's assurances didn't ease his troubled mind. That little voice in his head continued telling him something was going to go very wrong.

* * *

(1) 'Dilly dally' means 'To mess around or waste time.' British slang from Urban. Dictionary.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Hold on a minute," Rossi interrupted. Hotch ceased reading and looked up at his friend.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not exactly sure. But from what I'm hearing, Hogan and these men apparently are involved in sabotage. I mean…it's also like they come and go at their leisure to and from the camp."

"I understand what you mean. It doesn't make sense to me either." Hotch checked his watch for the time. The others would be arriving in less than an hour. "Shall I continue?"

Rossi nodded.

 ** _(May, 1944):_**

Hogan's bad feeling continued when his men left camp. Once back in the barracks, and with arms wrapped around himself, he paced back-and-forth hoping to convince himself to stop worrying. But if anything, that feeling only intensified.

* * *

Kinch motioned for the men following him to crouch down and be quiet as the bridge was visible from their location. He watched Carter and LeBeau adjust the shoulder straps of the bags they were carrying. The bags contained the explosives they'd need for the job. Each also gripped tightly a weapon in their hand. As he turned back toward their target, Kinch picked up the binoculars hanging around his own neck, and studied the bridge closely. He checked both it and the guards before lowering them and looking back at the others.

"Okay, according to Tiger, eight guards are posted at all times, but there's no telling when their shift will be changed. Two of them are patrolling back-and-forth on the bridge itself and the rest in front of it. All are armed. But it looks like the foliage on the back side of the bridge is dense enough to allow us access to plant the explosives without being noticed. But we have to move quickly and quietly. Soon as we're done, we need to get back to camp like the Colonel said. Everybody understand?"

"Oui, we understand," said LeBeau.

"Any Gestapo?" asked Carter with interest.

"I don't see any," Kinch replied looking through his binoculars again. "Looks like Bluebird stayed true to his word and kept the Gestapo away from the bridge and the area."

"That's a lucky break for us, ain't it, mate," Newkirk smirked. "At least we don't have to put up with that nasty lot."

"All right then…" Kinch whispered gripping his own pistol tightly. "Let's go."

He kept a watchful eye on the guards, and also for any unexpected surprises as they quietly made their way through the foliage to their target.

 ** _(Current Time)_**

Hotch stopped reading when he spotted movement in the bullpen from the corner of his eye.

As he had seen Hotch's eye movement, Rossi turned around and discovered what had caught his friend's attention. He smiled.

"I see the children are arriving." Rossi would never have called them children to their faces even though at times they acted like children, especially when they were bored. But when he referred to them as such to their boss, it was always in a teasing manner. He would never denigrate any of them to each other or to Hotch. This team was his family and he loved each of them. He started to get out of the chair. "Guess that means it's back to work then." He faced Hotch. "What I heard sounds interesting though, but I find it odd as well."

"How so?" Aaron asked closing the journal and sliding it inside his middle desk drawer.

"Well, there's little doubt Hogan and his men are involved in sabotage. A female member of the underground shows up in Stalag 13 as does a Gestapo officer who is also a member of the underground. Now we discover that Hogan's men have access to weapons and explosives. I suspect something else is going on here that we're not seeing. At least not yet."

"I agree. But we need to see if the others have uncovered anything useful." He got to his feet as Rossi opened the door allowing the two men to walk out onto the catwalk.

With a glance sideways, they spotted JJ talking with Reid, and Garcia sitting on the edge of Morgan's desk deep in conversation with the black agent. Emily was spotted walking out of the break area carrying a Styrofoam coffee cup. They all looked bleary-eyed and exhausted, as if none had gotten much if any sleep last night. Everybody looked up when they spotted Hotch and Rossi, even Emily as she approached her desk stopped.

"Conference room everybody," Hotch said with a passing glance as he and Rossi continued walking.

Fifteen minutes later, the entire team was gathered around the conference room table with Hotch seated at its head and Rossi beside him on his right side.

With a glance at each person, Hotch kept his face neutral. "I realize it's only been one day. And I understand you're all tired and probably didn't get much rest last night, but we need to discuss what you may have uncovered yesterday. Hotch clasped his hands on top of the table. "How about we begin with you, Garcia?"

Garcia's eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect 'O'.

"Me, sir? Why me?" she struggled to get the words out of her mouth.

Hotch chuckled. "Well, out of everybody here, you are the only one who looked as if you were about to burst if you didn't get to say something."

"I did?" The tech analyst asked still wide-eyed. "No…that is, I don't think I did. What I mean, sir…"

"Garcia!" Hotch said in his 'no-nonsense' voice bringing her rambling to an abrupt halt. It was the voice he used when he needed to get his tech analyst or Reid back on track when rambling.

"Sorry, sir. Okay, last night I did a little research on Marie Monet, Colonel Hogan's wife, and boy did I find a lot of info on her."

"Like what, Baby Girl?" asked Morgan.

Garcia used her remote and brought up a head-shot of a smiling Marie Monet. She studied her teammates as she spoke.

"This exquisite creature is Marie Louise Monet aka Tiger who was born in gay Paree. Now we have no definite date of birth, but speculation is she was born November 9, 1921. I could find nothing on her pre-war activities except to say she was a French national. After France fell to the Germans, she became a member of the French Resistance, and later became a leader of the Resistance. She worked on many dangerous assignments, and sometimes with another underground operative named Papa Bear…" she glanced for a split second at Hotch before again looking at the others. "…but so far I have been unable to find out Papa Bear's true identity."

"Anything else?" asked Prentiss finding this information fascinating.

"Oh yes, my raven-haired Goddess," Penelope replied with a smile. "On two separate occasions, Marie was captured by the Germans…"

"Who captured her?" asked Rossi.

"What I meant my Italian Stallion, is that one time she was captured by the Germans and turned over to the Gestapo for intense interrogation. But before they could get anything from her, this same Papa Bear rescued her. (1) Then another time she was captured by the Gestapo and was being sent to Berlin by train under guard to be executed by Hitler. Seems like he got his jollies having and witnessing people on his hit list executed, and Marie was number two on his list with this Papa Bear number one. But the train carrying her to Berlin mysteriously blew up before it arrived, killing everybody on board. There was no record of her after the train was destroyed or whether she somehow managed to escape and went, pardon the pun, undercover. In fact, many believed her to be dead after the explosion." (2)

"Until she turned up alive after the war and married Colonel Hogan," remarked Reid. "That tells me she somehow escaped from that train although I have no idea at this point how she did it without help."

"What are you thinking, Spence?" JJ asked tossing a strand of hair over her shoulder.

"I'm not sure, but if this Papa Bear rescued her once before, it's possible he was behind her surviving the train blowing up and escaping."

"Or…." Rossi interrupted leaning back in his chair staring at Tiger's photo. "The explosion of the train was a ruse so the Germans would believe her dead and wouldn't look for her."

"It's a possibility," Hotch admitted studying Marie's photo. "At least it's something that needs to be considered anyway and can't be dismissed."

"Or…" Morgan began.

Rossi glanced his way. "Or what?" he asked curiously.

Morgan clasped his fingers together in front of him on the table. "Keep in mind she was not only a member of the underground, but a leader. The underground could have had the ability to carry this out themselves without this Papa Bear's help."

Hotch clasped his fingers together in front of his face with elbows on the table. "I was reading a bit of the journal last night, and Colonel Hogan and his men had access to weapons and explosives." He observed the others, except for Rossi, exchanging looks with each other.

"Hotch, how is that even possible?" asked a stunned Morgan. "We're talkin' about men in a prison camp. How could they even get access to weapons and explosives? I mean, I can't see the Germans in a prison camp being that incompetent."

Reid leaned forward with both arms on the table. "Garcia, you said you couldn't find out Papa Bear's real name. But was there any sign this Colonel Hogan and Papa Bear might be one and the same?"

"I haven't been able to find any sign of that yet, my Boy Genius. Whoever he is seems to be a mystery right now."

Rossi and Hotch exchanged looks between them but neither said anything at the moment mainly because they had no proof Hogan was Papa Bear either. But if it were true, it would answer many questions.

Garcia faced her boss. "The only other thing I've been able to find out is that Colonel Hogan, after being promoted to General, became a logistics officer with the Pentagon. Also, his sons followed him into the military and are logistics officers."

"What's a logistics officer?" asked Emily.

"It's a member of the military who oversees their personnel abroad and at home," Reid explained eagerly. "But something bothers me about this."

"Why's that?" asked Prentiss, confused.

"If what Colonel Hogan and his men did in Stalag 13 warranted it being classified, why would he be promoted to General and then made a logistics officer? There's something else going on here."

"Reid is right," Prentiss replied. "There's something we're overlooking."

Garcia frowned. "That's all I have right now. I'm sorry, sir. But I'm still trying my hardest. I really am."

Hotch smiled showing the dimples she loved besides his good looks. "You found out plenty, Garcia, and I'm grateful. Thank you. Please keep digging. And despite what you think, you do excellent work."

A small smile appeared. "Thank you, sir."

Hotch's eyes fell on his youngest. "Reid, you have something you want to add to this?"

Reid faced his supervisor. "I went to the library after I left here, and checked out several books on POWS and POW camps in Germany. Also several books on World War 2. I spent the majority of the night reading."

"And…?" Morgan asked with arched eyebrows.

"And we could be on the right track believing that there's something bigger going on here. I read plenty of writings of former prisoners-of-war, and that of prisoners interviewed after the war had ended, and about prisoner-of-war camps in Germany. But with all I found out, there was nothing on Stalag 13 or any of the prisoners incarcerated there either during the war."

"So in other words we're still nowhere closer to solving this mystery than we were before," Morgan sighed.

"That's not really true though," Reid emphasized. "At least we now know we didn't miss anything as far as the prisoners were concerned. But for reasons I don't yet understand, the entire camp and its prisoners are classified. We just have to find out what that reason is. If we can find that out, then we'll know why everything is classified."

Hotch shifted his eyes to JJ next.

The media liaison sighed. "The only thing I found out from Garcia is we can't find any records of any deaths in Stalag 13, and that is really weird. Now why we can't find any death records is unknown because we know from history there were many. I mean illness and disease ran rampant during and after the war in Germany."

The Unit Chief nodded. "Does anybody else have anything to report?" There was silence.

"All right then, let's return to work on our case files," he added. "We can discuss anything more we find out later."

Rossi stayed behind as the others exited the room. He and Hotch stared at each other.

"So, what do you think after you heard what JJ, Garcia, and Reid had to say?"

Hotch let out a deep breath. "I agree something else is going on that we don't know about yet. And the facts that there were no deaths reported in that camp bothers me."

"What else?"

"Same thing as you, I suppose. Why would this Colonel Hogan, after the war, be promoted to General, and assigned to the Pentagon and be a logistics officer?"

"He wouldn't," Rossi explained. "I've seen this in the Marines during my time with them. Somebody becoming a logistics officer is the military's way of keeping what that officer really did confidential. It's a cover story. I think that's what happened with Colonel Hogan. It's as the kid said, once we find out what Hogan did at Stalag 13 that was classified, everything else, maybe even what he did postwar, will become clearer."

* * *

(1) 'A Tiger Hunt in Paris,' Season 2, is when Tiger was turned over to the Gestapo for questioning.

(2) 'Operation Tiger', Season 6, is the episode in which Tiger was being taken to Berlin for execution.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

It was lunch time, and Emily and JJ sat together at JJ's desk in her office, going over the notes printed by Garcia. JJ had a Chef salad and a diet soda, while Prentiss had a Club sandwich with French fries and a chocolate milk shake. While JJ had been out getting lunch, Prentiss had picked up the printouts from Garcia before heading to the liaison's office. They needed to organize what they were going to do later before lunchtime ended, and everybody needed to return to work.

"Okay," Prentiss said looking at a sheet of paper with names printed on it; JJ had a duplicate copy. "According to Garcia, Hogan's children are as follows. His and Tiger's daughters are alive, but one lives in Paris, and the other lives in Connecticut. His two sons were logistics officers with the Pentagon. We can check out both his sons and the daughter who still lives in Connecticut. We can also make contact with Kinchloe's three daughters two of which live in Toledo and the third in Detroit."

JJ nodded as she checked off the names on her copy. "Sounds good. We can skip Hogan's daughter living in France." She looked up at the brunette. "Has Garcia checked on whether Colonel Hogan and Sergeant Kinchloe have any grandchildren or great-grandchildren yet?"

"I don't think so, but I'll check with her later."

"Fine." JJ went back to her list. "We can also overlook Carter's family as they're all deceased. LeBeau's only surviving son, Francois, lives in Paris and runs his family's restaurant so we can overlook him as well. "And finally, we leave out Newkirk's two sons as both live in London."

"So how do you want to go about doing this?" asked the blonde.

Emily crossed her long legs. "I think the best way is to compile two lists. On one list we write the names of people we cannot question, what they do now, and where they are now living. The other list will have the same things, but will have those we can contact. At least we can then narrow down the number of people we need to speak to so we don't waste time."

"Sounds good to me."

* * *

Morgan had decided to spend his lunch hour with Garcia in her office. He figured that would be the best time to help her search for added information on Hogan and his men.

"Hey sweetness," the black agent smiled as he strolled into her office closing the door behind him. She looked over her shoulder and returned his smile.

"Yes, Hot Stuff. What can this technical goddess do for you?"

"You got that backward. It's not what you can do for me but what I can do for you." He saw her confusion and grabbed a nearby chair, rolling it beside her. He turned it around before he sat down with arms resting on the back of the chair facing her. "Since we have an hour, I figured I can help you do a little research for Hotch."

"Bless you, because I am at a loss where else to look right now."

"Have you checked to see if any of the children these men had had children of their own? Or maybe there might be great-grandchildren?"

Garcia reached out a hand gripping several papers, and handed Morgan several sheets of paper. "I did that first thing this morning. Seems that our Colonel Hogan's sons are named Robert Edward Jr. and Edward Peter; his daughters' are Susan Marie and Sandra Louise. Susan taught French and after retiring moved to Paris where she now resides. Sandra is a retired scientist."

"And Hogan's sons?"

"His sons are both retired from the Army and were logistics officers. His oldest, Robert Edward aka Robbie, married Janine Thompson and had three children one of whom is named Robert Edward the third. Robbie was in the Green Berets. He in turn married Lois Eckert, had two children, Jennifer Patricia and Robert Edward the fourth. Robert Edward the fourth is still in the Army."

Morgan nodded. "Sounds like a military family to me. Was Hogan's own dad a military man as well?"

"Yes. General Robert Edward Hogan married Sandra Johnson and had five children, three boys and two girls. The boys were all military. Needless to say, the General and Colonel Hogan shared one thing in common other than the same name. Care to guess what?"

Morgan grinned. "Let me guess. They were both POWs?"

"Give that man a cigar," Garcia teased. "Correct-o-mundo. They were both prisoners except that the camp General Hogan was in didn't treat their prisoners well at all. They were beaten and starved regularly. Seems his son lucked out when he was captured."

"I agree. Seems like Kommandant Klink adhered to the Geneva Convention with his prisoners," Derek mused. "What about the others?"

"Not much on that. Carter's entire family is deceased. Corporal LeBeau's only surviving son, Francois, still lives in Paris managing his family's restaurant. Corporal Newkirk's two sons are employed with MI-6 and live in jolly ole England. And Sergeant Kinchloe who married an African princess had three daughters, Dorothy Gail, Emily Patricia, and Yolanda Media."

"Okay, I have an idea. You said this Sergeant Kinchloe, after the war, married an African princess."

"Yeah, a Princess Yowanda. Apparently she and her husband were at Stalag 13." (1)

"Okay. That's a good place as any to start." Morgan mulled over what he had been told while Garcia faced her computer with fingers poised over the keyboard. "How 'bout you start with why she and the prince were at Stalag 13? I can't see royalty from Africa visiting a POW camp. There had to be a reason for them to be there." Garcia's smile widened as she began pecking away at her keyboard. Her eyes widened with sudden discovery.

"Oh you are good, my Dark God! You are a genius! Here she is! I found her! Princess Yowanda and her husband Prince Maka Bana!"

Morgan slid his chair closer to get a better look at the screen.

"Tell me."

"Okay," Garcia became excited. "It seems Prince Maka Bana was against the Allies, and was contacted by the Germans who wanted to build a secret submarine post in the prince's country. He agreed to let the Germans do it for the right price. So after a price was reached between Germany and the prince, he and the princess came to Germany to complete the matter with Germany."

"Does it say anything as to how they ended up in Stalag 13?"

"Yes. The prince's plane tangled with an Allied plane, and was shot down near Stalag 13. He was escorted there to wait for transportation to arrive from Berlin carrying a negotiator with the agreed upon amount of money. After handing over the money to the prince, the negotiator was then to escort the prince and princess out of Germany."

"Do you have a picture of the prince?"

"Hold your horses." The tech analyst typed again, and before long, a side-by-side photo of the prince and princess appeared.

"Is that them?" asked Morgan moving closer.

"Yep. That's them."

"Hmmm. Being taken to Stalag 13 at least shows this princess was in the same camp as Sergeant Kinchloe, and that was where they met. Even though I still can't see a princess mingling with a prisoner, as I would think all prisoners would have been confined to barracks." Suddenly something else popped up on the screen. Garcia's eyes narrowed.

"This looks like part of a short interview with the prince and princess in one of their country's publications."

"What's it say?"

"Well, once the prince and princess returned home, the prince was asked how his negotiations with the Germans went. He explained his plane was shot down by the Allies, and he and the princess ended up being taken to Stalag 13 to wait for further transportation. And while there, the prince kept saying to anyone who would listen, that he had been held prisoner by the prisoners there, and an imposter took his place. But people didn't believe him."

"So nobody believed him?"

"Nope. Then somebody asked the princess about Stalag 13. All she would say is that the best thing about Stalag 13 was from Topeka whatever that meant. But what is weird about that is that after the war, that was where she met Sergeant Kinchloe and they got married."

Morgan's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. I thought this Sergeant Kinchloe was born in Detroit, Michigan."

"He was my love. But after the war, Sergeant Kinchloe went to Topeka before returning to Detroit." All the while she kept her eyes on the side-by-side pictures. Suddenly her eyes narrowed. "Hold on a sec," she added and began to work furiously.

"What is it? What do you see?"

"Just hold your horses, my love, and you'll soon see for yourself." Then with a pleased chuckle, she sat back in her chair. She glanced at Morgan whose eyebrows arched as his eyes widened in surprise. "So what do you think?" she asked.

There on the screen, was a side-by-side photo of Prince Maka Bana and Sergeant James Kinchloe.

"Except for the mustache they could be twins," Morgan exclaimed. "Baby Girl, what made you think of this?"

Garcia shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not really sure. It's just that when I saw the prince's picture I remembered Sergeant Kinchloe's photo. Pretty good huh?" she asked smiling at Morgan.

"Heck yeah. Print this stuff up for us. I'm not quite sure what all this exactly means yet, but I'm sure it means something." He waited as Garcia pressed the 'print' button on her computer.

"You just might be right, sugar shack," she teased, pleased that she might have found something helpful.

* * *

Hotch pulled the journal from his middle desk drawer. He had already decided to skip lunch and read a little more instead.

 _ **(May, 1944):**_

The men silently advanced through the foliage and while keeping together, kept their eyes and ears open for any warning that the guards were closing in on them. So far, all had been going well. Once they reached their target, Hotchner, LeBeau and Carter planted their explosives just beneath the top of the bridge. Kinch, Newkirk and Olsen planted theirs at the base of the supports of the bridge.

As they began to set their timers, Carter glanced over at the little Frenchman.

"Hey, LeBeau," he whispered. "You almost…." He didn't finish as the Frenchman clamped a hand over the younger man's mouth.

"Shhh," LeBeau whispered eyes darting upward. "Quiet," he mouthed. He watched Carter's eyes move upward as a creaking sound was overhead indicating somebody was walking above them. Even Kinch, Newkirk and Olsen froze as they heard the sound of footsteps above them. This could only mean one thing; somebody was patrolling above, and any sound by one of them could mean instant death for all of them. But soon the footsteps above receded until they disappeared. After that, the men finished setting the timers, and proceeded to leave by the same route they used to reach the bridge. But all that abruptly changed in a matter of minutes.

" _Halt!"_ a voice shouted.

Kinch glanced back over his shoulder but didn't see anybody. "Split up and run!" he ordered deciding not to take any chances. Kinch, Carter and Olsen fled in one direction, with Newkirk, LeBeau and Hotchner in the other. All with one goal in mind, and that was to get back to the safety of Stalag 13.

" _Halt!"_ was heard again followed by a burst of gunfire from a machine gun. The heroes returned fire. But sadly, a pistol having only six bullets, was no match for a machine gun.

Newkirk glanced back at LeBeau and Hotchner, and gestured for them to follow as he made his way up a slight incline. As they did so, they were unaware several pairs of eyes were watching from their hiding place at the top. They had spotted the three men below running towards them, and decided to hide and wait, letting the trio come to them instead.

As Newkirk, LeBeau, and Hotchner scurried further up the incline, the Englander glanced back at the Heer guards chasing them. "I hope they give up soon or we lose 'em! I'm outta bullets!"

"I hope you are right, Pierre!" LeBeau panted.

But the moment they reached the top, Hotchner, LeBeau and Newkirk froze. Facing them were three Gestapo guards, one a sergeant, all with machine guns trained on them. The prisoners could only drop their empty pistols and raise their hands in surrender secretly hoping their comrades had escaped and headed back to camp.

* * *

Olsen and Carter, despite being winded, kept running. They had separated from Kinch who decided he would try and delay their pursuers more. So he ordered Olsen and Carter to keep moving and he would meet up with them in a few minutes.

" _Halt ode rich schiebe!"_ they heard someone shout before hearing gunfire. (2) Olsen wasted no time before grabbing Carter's sleeve and pulling him down with him behind dense foliage. From there, they had a view of the hill they needed to climb. They also observed Newkirk, Hotchner, and LeBeau and started to emerge from where they were hiding. But before they came out of hiding, they froze and watched as their three comrades were held at gunpoint by what looked like Gestapo.

"What are the Gestapo doing here?" whispered Carter. "I thought Bluebird reassigned them somewhere else."

"I have no idea," Olsen whispered in response. "Do you see Kinch?"

"No. We have to help them." Carter started to get to his feet but was again prevented by Olsen.

"Stop. We only have about four bullets between us, and won't stand a chance against machine guns. All we can do is watch and then report back to the colonel."

The duo watched as the Gestapo then handcuffed their friends at gunpoint, began leading them back down the hill. Along the way, LeBeau stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to keep his footing.

"Keep moving, swine," the sergeant demanded poking the Frenchman in his back with his weapon." LeBeau looked back and glared at the Gestapo sergeant. "They were near the bridge," the sergeant continued and glanced at his two subordinates. "We need to get back to the bridge and have the Heer check it for hidden explosives and disarm them. The convoy will be passing within the hour."

Newkirk, Hotchner and LeBeau all exchanged looks before they were forced to continue back down the hill. The next several minutes passed by with the heroes doing all they could to delay the Gestapo from reaching their destination.

Suddenly, a huge explosion shattered the nighttime silence, and lit up the dark sky knocking each man off his feet.

As they regained their footing and continued walking, they spotted two injured Heer guards staggering toward them. Their arms hung loosely at their sides and appeared about to collapse. They were also bruised, bloody, and appeared disoriented. Watching from their hiding place, Carter frowned as he checked his watch. Olsen glanced at him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"The explosives went off a minute late," the younger man complained sadly. Olsen simply rolled his eyes skyward and gripped Carter's arm.

"C'mon,' he whispered. "We need to find Kinch and get back to camp. The colonel will know what to do about this."

He and Carter left the safety of their hiding place, careful not to be seen in the light of the fire as the convoy and bridge continued to burn. Not paying attention to where he was going, Carter tripped and fell face-down on the ground.

"Clumsy," Olsen groaned about to help the younger man to his feet when he suddenly froze as his eyes widened. "Kinch!" he muttered.

The black man lay face-down on the ground with blood pooling around him. He didn't seem conscious. As he knelt down, Olsen pressed two fingers again the man's throat hoping he was still alive.

* * *

"Was ist los?" the sergeant asked worried.

"The bridge and the convoy have been destroyed," one Heer guard explained. "Saboteurs. We spotted several swine and took chase before we lost them. We even shot at them. I guess we were too far away to be killed by the blast. All our comrades were killed in the explosion." The guard, a private, looked at his friend who was bleeding from and injury to his leg. He himself was bruised and bloody with no major injuries. "My friend is hurt and needs help."

The sergeant ordered two of his men to remove the cuffs from Newkirk and Hotchner.

"You two, you will help get these injured men to Gestapo headquarters."

"I ain't helpin' no bloody Kraut get no place," hissed Newkirk glaring at the sergeant.

The sergeant pressed his machine gun against LeBeau's head. "You will or your little friend here will die like the swine he is."

LeBeau stared at his friends and no words needed to be said. They knew he would rather die than have his friends help the Germans.

"All you had to do was ask, chum," Newkirk replied keeping his anger under wraps. He and Hotchner each draped an arm of the Heer with the leg injury over their own shoulders to support him and help him walk. The other Heer was able to walk on his own without help.

 _ **(Back to Current Time)**_

Hotch looked up when he heard someone knocking on his office door. He slid the journal back into his middle desk drawer and growled.

" _Damn!"_ he told himself. _"Why did someone have to interrupt my reading now! This had better be good!"_

* * *

(1) Prince Maka Bana and Princess Yowanda are from The Prince and the Phone Company, Season 1.

(2) 'Halt ode rich schiebe!' means 'Halt or I shoot!' via Google Translation.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

When his office door opened, Hotch frowned when he spotted a smirking David Rossi leaning against the doorframe, hands stuffed in his pockets. He rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "And don't tell me you finished all your case files because I know it'd be a lie."

"I wouldn't dream of it," the older man grinned deviously, his eyes focused on his friend. "I stopped by to make sure you don't forget the meeting we have with Strauss at two p.m."

"That's an hour from now," Hotch reminded him. He'd really rather skip this meeting with Erin Strauss altogether, and understood Rossi felt the same way. Besides, he wanted to read more of the journal. But considering the intense dislike his Section Chief had for him, the last thing Hotch wanted to do was give her any more ammunition to use against him.

"Really? That's funny because my watch says its five minutes to two now."

"It can't be," Hotch claimed, stunned, as he nearly jumped to his feet, eyes looking at his own watch. "I can't have been reading that long."

The older man's eyebrows arched and he chuckled. "So you were reading the journal again? Why doesn't that surprise me one bit." He smirked. "Care to tell me what you read which held your interest for so long you forgot the time?" He asked as he held the office door open allowing Aaron to pass him by and followed him out the door. The two men walked down the stairs of the catwalk and side-by-side out the double doors to the bank of elevators where Rossi pressed the 'up' button.

As they waited for the elevator doors to hiss open, the Unit Chief glanced sideways at the older man. He knew Rossi would never push him to talk, but would wait as long as he had to for him to tell him what he had read. But right now, he was having difficulty wrapping his brain around what he had read…but he would. He had to if he was going to get answers. The elevator door hissed open and both men stood aside to allow Emily to step out of the elevator. She noticed her boss's weary expression and slumped shoulders as he passed her.

"Is Hotch all right?" she asked Rossi, worried. "He looks a bit off from his usual self."

Rossi grinned at her with a twinkle in his brown eyes. "You'd look a bit off too if you were about to enter the lion's den," he explained. He followed Aaron inside the elevator and waited for the doors to close.

Emily nodded her understanding. "Strauss?" she asked with a sympathetic look in her eyes directed at the Unit Chief. It was no secret to anybody of the woman's immense disdain for her boss. Also, she did nothing to conceal her dislike of the man despite Hotch having done nothing to her whatsoever.

The older man didn't respond, but his eyes gave her the answer she sought. She smirked as the doors closed before she headed to the double doors of the BAU.

As the elevator car ascended, Hotch let out a deep breath keeping his eyes straight ahead and not looking at Rossi.

"My grandfather was captured by the Gestapo," he explained in a few words.

Rossi turned his surprised eyes onto the younger man as the doors slid open once reaching the upper floor.

* * *

The two men wearily reentered Hotch's once the meeting ended. The older man sat down in a chair and watched his friend as he collapsed into his chair behind his desk, both arms resting on top.

"You all right?" Rossi asked, concerned.

"Yeah," Hotch replied listlessly averting his eyes. By the time he looked up at the older man, there was a weariness in his dark eyes. "I need a favor."

"Name it."

"I need to get out of here. No questions asked. Can you fill in for me and handle anything which might arise? I promise I'll be in tomorrow."

"Sure. No problem. Look, Strauss can be a pain in the rear, but her bark is worse than her bite. Trust me." His eyes narrowed with concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine. Really." That was the younger man's patented response when he didn't want people to worry about him.

"Uhhhh-huh," Rossi replied knowing he was being lied to but didn't push. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on his friend.

"Thanks." Hotch grabbed his briefcase and began packing it. He reached inside his middle desk drawer, and Rossi noticed him pulling out the journal and putting it inside the briefcase before he shut it. "I'll be available by phone if something comes up later and you need to reach me." Then he got to his feet and headed toward the office door. As he grabbed the door handle and was about to open it, he heard his name called, paused, and looked back.

"Do me one favor," Rossi began when he had the younger man's attention.

"What is it?"

"Tell me if your grandfather escapes from the Gestapo," he remarked with a smirk realizing he guessed right as to what was troubling the younger man. With a weak smile, Hotch didn't reply and left the office.

* * *

Sometime later, the Unit Chief unlocked his apartment door and dropped his briefcase onto his sofa, and his keys in the small dish on the table near the front door. He then walked to the sofa, opened the briefcase, and removed the journal. After he tucked it under his arm, he walked to the bar, opened the bottle of Scotch Rossi had given him years ago, and poured a little into a tumbler. He downed half of it before walking to his favorite lounger. He placed the tumbler on a side table, and leaned back elevating the footrest of the recliner. The journal lay in his lap.

He let out a deep sigh, and started to start as the tension begin to leave his body. He picked up the journal and cracked it open to the page where he left off earlier.

* * *

 _ **(May, 1944):**_

Once reaching Gestapo Headquarters, the injured Heer soldiers were helped to a Medical Unit for treatment by Hotchner and Newkirk before the three prisoners were then paraded in front of the Gestapo sergeant and two armed guards. The sergeant glared at each prisoner with grease on their faces, and dressed in black, paying particular attention to Hotchner looking as if he had seen the man before somewhere.

"I am Sergeant von Eisenburg," the German said coldly. He turned his eyes on the Frenchman. "What were you scum doing by the bridge?" he asked, greeted with silence. " _You!"_ he glared at LeBeau as he stood facing him. "I am talking to you, pig, and I expect an answer! Tell me what you and your friends were doing there?!"

LeBeau smirked. "It was such a beautiful night, we decided to take a walk." His sarcasm was met with the solid punch by a fist to the jaw causing the Frenchman to stumble against Newkirk. He glared at the Gestapo sergeant but kept his mouth shut. He would not answer any more questions.

"I am not in the mood for games, swine! You will answer my questions! Or must we get creative with our questioning?"

LeBeau held up his chin looking defiant, hands hanging loosely at his sides as were the others. The guards found themselves chuckling as they watched. Von Eisenburg angrily ground his lower jaw. He believed he was being ridiculed by the prisoner, and pulled out is sidearm and removed the safety. He pressed the business end against the Frenchman's temple, his finger on the trigger.

"Now, shall we try this again?" he asked. "Why were you and your friend at the bridge?"

LeBeau's lower lip trembled, but he stood fast. He took a deep breath. But before anything happened, Newkirk sighed. His green eyes were blazing with rage.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size," he growled. "Or does picking on someone smaller than you make you feel more of a man?"

Von Eisenburg paused and turned his attention to the Englander. He smirked and pointed his firearm at him.

"Seems we have a comedian in our midst." He aimed the weapon between Newkirk's eyes. He backhanded him with his gun splitting the man's lower lip. "What about you, swine? You British are so useless. So tell me, who else helped you destroy the bridge and the convoy? I know there were others helping you. Tell me who they are and maybe I'll let you and your little friend live." Newkirk swallowed hard wiping his mouth with the back of his hand but didn't respond.

"Leave them alone," Hotchner spoke up knowing he was risking life and limb.

With anger intensifying, von Eisenburg's eyes now focused on him. A slow twisted smile appeared. He had been waiting a long time to meet this man in person.

"Well…well…well. What about you, Colonel Hogan? Perhaps you'll talk and save your men?"

Hotchner's eyes widened. Newkirk and LeBeau eyed each other, scared. Their eyes said what was on their minds. _This filthy Kraut thinks Hotchner is Colonel Hogan?_ To them, this news did not bode well, not well at all. Especially for the sergeant.

"I… you've made a mistake," he said. "I…I'm not this Colonel Hogan. I have no idea who he is."

Von Eisenburg viciously backhanded the man twice which resulted in a split and bloody lower lip and a cut cheek.

" _Liar!_ Don't lie to me, swine. You are the great Colonel Hogan also known as Papa Bear!" He smirked. "Major Hochstetter has been wanting to question you intensively for a long time."

Hotchner swallowed nervously. There was nobody in Stalag 13 who hadn't heard about the illustrious Gestapo major, Wolfgang Hochstetter. His reputation proceeded him. The man, while not a ruthless member of the Gestapo, was someone still to be reckoned with nonetheless.

When he got no response, von Eisenburg balled and buried his fist in the man's stomach causing the man to double over driving the breath out of him. Then he roughly seized him by the front of the turtleneck, and jerked him upright. His fist connected with the man's jaw, and it caused stars to appear in Hotchner's eyes as he fell backwards from the force of the punch. There was a sickening sound as the back of his head struck the hard wooden floor, stunning him. After laying on his back for several minutes, he slowly rolled onto his side, and tears gathered in his eyes as he continued to gasp for breath.

The sergeant stood over his man as he lay on the floor clutching his middle. He stared down at the man with a twisted grin, and delivered a swift kick to Hotchner's ribs. The man grimaced hearing something crack figuring it might be a rib breaking. Von Eisenburg drew back his foot preparing to deliver another kick to the ribs.

One of the two armed guards, a private, suddenly stepped forward. "Sergeant, I suggest you not incapacitate Colonel Hogan. Major Hochstetter would be quite upset if he can't question him himself."

The sergeant lowered his foot, and stared at the private, mulling over what he'd been told. Aware of the major's volatile reputation, he took a deep breath to calm himself. He recalled a soldier injuring a prisoner who became incapable of answering the major's questions. The man promptly disappeared and was never heard from again by anybody. But there were various whispers as to what had been the man's fate.

"Perhaps you are correct, private," he replied with a smirk. "Colonel Hogan must answer for his crimes against the Fatherland. For him not to be able to answer the major's questions would certainly result in extreme anger by the major. And that is something I cannot afford just when I am on the verge of reaping many rewards from capturing Papa Bear. No, that certainly will not do at all."

He glanced down at Hotchner who had rolled onto his back now clutching his side. The sergeant suspected he had ribs either cracked or broken, although no knowledge of how many. Also, one eye was swollen nearly shut and one cheek was swollen, bruised, and starting to swell.

"Take these filthy saboteurs below and lock them up in solitary. There is something important I need to do."

He watched the guards keep their weapons aimed at Newkirk and LeBeau.

"Move!" the private ordered. The two prisoners helped Hotchner slowly gain his footing, and drape one arm over each of their shoulders to help him walk. Then, they made their way, at gunpoint, out of the interrogation room.

Each move he made caused a new hiss of pain. He had experienced pain before, but nothing like this. And as far as he was concerned, the one responsible for this pain was Captain Fritz Fuchs. And he swore that no matter how long it took, he would make sure the Gestapo captain paid for what they had endured, and for their capture. And it was a promise he swore he would keep, even if it resulted in the Gestapo captain's death. It would prove to Hogan, once and for all, that he was right to be suspicious and that Fuchs had betrayed them.

 _ **(Current time)**_

Hotch lay the journal in his lap and picked up his tumbler, taking a small sip of the amber liquid, letting it burn as it slid down his throat. From what Garcia had uncovered about Hochstetter, the man was obsessed with Hogan. Also, the man was evil through and through, and he was worried about what his grandfather endured while a prisoner of the man and his Gestapo.

He sat his tumbler back down, and picked up the journal and continued reading.

 _ **(May, 1944, Continued):**_

The three prisoners were locked in a small cell just large enough for one person. But with three, it was like being crammed into a sardine can with barely enough room to stand up and move around without bumping into each other. Newkirk and LeBeau sat side-by-side on the edge of the cot with feet on the cobblestone floor.

Hotchner was laying on the floor at their feet, still clutching his side. He found it somewhat easier to breathe this way, and the coolness of the cobblestones eased the pain in his side just a little. But the pounding in his head was still fierce.

"You okay, mate?"

"Yeah…I'm okay," was the pained response. "Just…peachy…"

LeBeau saw Newkirk's expression and also became worried.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Course I ain't no doctor, mind you, but he might have a concussion."

"Sacre Chat! He needs a doctor."

Newkirk let out a deep breath. They were mostly worried because neither had any idea how bad their friend's concussion might be. But right now that didn't seem to matter much.

"You and I know that, but I don't think the Krauts give a damn."

"But I would think Major Hochstetter will care if he cannot question one of his prisoners because one of his prisoners was beaten badly and denied medical care." LeBeau was hoping it was true that the Gestapo kept their cells bugged, and would get a doctor for their injured friend.

"We can only hope, mate," Newkirk replied.

Hotchner groaned as he struggled to sit up straight. And with the aid of the others, he managed to sit up and lean against the bed-frame.

"Thanks," he hissed. "That's a little bit better."

"You're welcome, mon ami. We are sorry we could not stop the beating you suffered. "Encore une fois, nouse sommes desoles." (1)

"That's okay."

After he moved closer, Newkirk gently pressed his hands against the injured man's rib area. After a few minutes, he grinned.

"Nothing seems broken, mate. Cracked or bruised ribs is me best bet. Cause I ain't no doctor. I suggest you try not movin' too much seein' as we ain't got nothin' with which to wrap your ribs. Sorry."

Hotchner chuckled. "That's okay. As long as that guy doesn't use me for a punching bag that should be easy to do."

* * *

Von Eisenburg was sitting at his desk in the lobby of Gestapo Headquarters organizing his thoughts. Once he did, he picked up the receiver, and made what he deemed would be the most important phone call he ever would make. After he dialed the number he wanted, he let it ring several times.

After ringing five times, he was about to hang up and try again when there was a click on the other end.

"Hello," a gruff sleepy voice said sounding as if the man had been awakened.

"This is Sergeant von Eisenburg."

"Was ist los?"

"I have exciting news," von Eisenburg explained with a wide smile and his chest puffed out with pride.

"Tell me," the voice asked, annoyance in his voice. "And it better be good for you to call me at this late hour. If not, heads will roll, I promise you!"

"Major Hotchstetter, sir, I have captured Papa Bear and two of his minions."

* * *

(1) 'Encore une fois, nouse sommes desoles' means 'Again, we are so sorry' via Google Translate. Com.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The silence on the other end lasted so long, von Eisenburg feared Hochstetter had hung up his phone.

"Sir, are you still there? Did you hear what I said?"

"Ja…ja, I heard you, but I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Can you repeat what you said?"

"I said I arrested Papa Bear and two of his minions after they sabotaged the Schweinfurt Bridge and destroyed the convoy earlier."

But the Gestapo major still questioned what he had been told. "Are you certain of this, sergeant? We cannot afford to make a mistake. Do you have any proof?"

"He fits the description you have exactly. Tall, dark hair and brown eyes. Also, he and his friends were all out of uniform when arrested."

The major, despite still lingering doubt, began to feel excitement growing.

"Good work! That is indeed excellent news! You will be rewarded for your actions."

The German sergeant smiled at the major's words while trying to curtail his enthusiasm. "Danke, Herr Major. I questioned the prisoners but got no information from them."

Hochstetter snickered. "That doesn't surprise me. Hogan is quite adept at being difficult. But you can rest assured, I will get all the information I seek from him before his execution. And this time that bumbling idiot Klink will not stop me. And before I'm done, I will prove that he's not only an idiot, but that he covered for Hogan with his stupidity."

"And I'm sure you will bring down the entire underground once you break him, sir."

"That I will. I will be on the next train to Hammelburg as-soon-as-possible."

"Is there anything you want me to do in the meantime, sir?"

"Nein. Just make certain nobody questions the prisoners except Captain Fuchs or myself. Verstehen?" (1)

"Jawohl. I will see to it at once, Herr Major."

* * *

Hogan checked his watch for the umpteenth time. His men were over an hour late returning to camp, and he was long past being worried. That ship had sailed earlier. And now a new problem faced him. In a few hours, morning roll call would take place, and he was missing six men. He found his anger had replaced his worry. He knew he could fool Schultz by having men from other barracks replace Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter, Olsen, and Kinch. Schultz would spot the substitutes right away, but be more worried the Kommandant would notice and blame things on him. But Klink wasn't really observant for the most part. As long as he had fifteen prisoners he'd be happy because that meant his record of no escapes of which he was so proud, was still intact.

He had done it before many times. But he had never had to get a substitute for Hotchner. In fact, if memory served, he didn't think there was one man in the entire camp who'd be able to pass for Hotchner. If anything, Olsen came the closest in looks, but he was out of camp leaving the colonel with a huge problem to solve. He just hoped the men returned in time for roll call.

" _If Newkirk and LeBeau are foolin' around with women, I'm gonna have Klink put 'em both in the cooler until the liberation comes,"_ he told himself _._ But he realized there was one thing wrong with that logic. Kinch, Olsen, and Hotchner would keep their minds on business, and Carter was shy and got nervous around women. Also, Kinch would make sure all the guys returned to camp as ordered. So the only other thing he assumed is that something had gone terribly wrong. Just like the feeling he had from the beginning.

He thought about contacting Bluebird and make sure the man had reassigned his troops. The troops scheduled to help out at the bridge had been reassigned to the ammo dump which had not been a target. But he dismissed that thought almost as quickly as he considered it. He trusted Fuchs with his life, and if the man had promised to keep his men away from a target, he was positive that's what he did. And if there had been a problem, the captain would have contacted him right away.

Hogan checked the time and realized how late it was, and knew that Fuchs would be home at this hour. He stopped his pacing and stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his brown pants and looked up at the ceiling while letting out a deep breath. He just had to keep telling himself Fuchs hadn't contacted him of any trouble because there'd probably been none. And that the mission was just taking longer.

" _I am really getting too old for this,"_ he told himself with a shake of his head. He then resumed his pacing.

"Colonel?" someone asked. Hogan stopped pacing and looked at the man who had spoken to him.

"What is it, Garlotti?" the colonel asked tiredly.

"Sir, we understand the guys are late getting back. How about if they're not back soon I take a couple of the guys and we go search for 'em?"

The colonel wrapped his arms around himself as he did when he was thinking or as a form of relaxation. He considered the offer but at once dismissed it. He already had six men missing, and couldn't afford to lose anybody else. He chuckled. "I thank you, but it won't be necessary. But if they're not back in another fifteen minutes, I'm going out and search for them myself. And if Newkirk and LeBeau are fooling around with girls, I'm going to bust them down to privates."

A couple of the other prisoners snickered, but deep down they all understood the colonel wasn't kidding. They also realized he was extremely worried, and watched as he resumed his pacing.

Hogan prayed the guys showed up within the next few minutes safe and sound.

* * *

"Holy moly!" Carter exclaimed with wide eyes. "Kinch!" The younger man slowly knelt beside his injured friend, his eyes on his still form. For all intents and purposes, the older man looked dead. Olsen crouched beside their downed comrade and pressed two fingers against his neck hoping against hope.

"Is he alive?" the younger man asked fearfully, his heart having dropped into his stomach. Because it was so dark neither man could tell where Kinch had been hit, but there was no missing the blood pooling around him.

Olsen, with worry in his eyes, glanced upward. "He's alive, but barely. His heartbeat is weak at best. C'mon…" he grabbed the black man's legs and stared at the sergeant. "Help me get 'im back to camp." But the young man seemed frozen in place, staring at the injured man on the ground. "You can go into shock later, Andrew. Now help me get Kinch back to camp. He needs Wilson. Sergeant, let's go! Now!"

As if waking from a trance, Carter sprang into action. He reached down and grabbed Kinch under the armpits. Between them, they steadily made their way back through the woods hoping no more surprises waited them before they returned back to camp.

The journey was slow going, and they had to stop periodically while carrying their heavy load. But their rest breaks only lasted one-to-two minutes, sometimes less. Time was of the essence, and Kinch had remained unconscious the entire time.

* * *

Hotchner tried not to fall asleep, but he was so tired, and his head hurt like hell. All he wanted to do was lay down somewhere and sleep for days. Even if he got only a few hours sleep, he was sure he would feel better. But Newkirk and LeBeau refused to let him even close his eyes. If he so much as nodded off, one of them shook him awake. Didn't they understand all he needed was sleep?

"How you doin', mate?" the Englander gently asked nudging Hotchner's shoulder.

The sergeant swallowed the lump in his throat and allowed a weak smile to appear. "I…I just wish I can get rid of the drums in my head." He saw his friend smirk, but with the look of concern still in his green eyes. "Also, I'm just so tired and nauseous. Can't I lay down and close my eyes for a few hours?"

"Can't let you do that, chum. You might have a concussion. Sleepin' would be dangerous."

"But I'm so tired."

LeBeau sat down on the floor beside Newkirk and looked into Hotchner's brown eyes. He didn't like the dazed look he saw. He and Newkirk looked at each other.

"I wish we could get a doctor in here," the Frenchman said quietly.

"You and me both." Newkirk looked around the interior of the cell. "I hope you bloody Krauts are listenin' cause Major Hochstetter's gonna be bloody pissed if anything happens to any of us, sergeant!" He really hoped Von Eisenberg was listening and would get a doctor.

"He might have a concussion and die," LeBeau added to the conversation.

"Your bloody boss would be one unhappy bloke if he can't talk to us because you incapacitated one of us."

The two men paused in their tirade for a few minutes waiting to see if there would be any response. When none came, they prepared to begin again when there was the sound of the iron door being unlocked and pushed open.

* * *

Hotch laid the journal in his lap and let out a deep breath through his mouth. He recalled his grandfather having a scar on his face below his lower lip, and recalled asking about it as a child. But his grandfather never offered an explanation as to where or when he had gotten it. After awhile, the boy had quit asking about it, figuring the older man had his own reasons for not telling him. And after what he had just read, he now had a pretty good idea how and where his grandfather had gotten that scar.

He again picked up the journal and continued reading.

* * *

 _ **(May, 1944 – Early the following morning):**_

Hogan had waited long enough in his estimate. The extra fifteen minutes he had decided to give the men had expired twenty minutes ago. He glanced around the barracks until his eyes landed on who he wanted.

"Garlotti…"

"Sir?"

"I need you to come with me. Too much time has passed, and the guys still aren't back. We need to go out and search for 'em."

Garlotti leapt down from his bunk across the room. He spotted his commander lift the top of one end of a wooden bench at the table and produced two pistols. He handed one to the Italian. "Let's go," Hogan ordered.

"Right behind you, Colonel."

Hogan led the way in the direction of the double bunk in the corner, and paused suddenly when the mattress on the lower bunk rattled upward. The American officer placed a hand on Garlotti's chest stopping him from moving. Both men waited to see who would be appearing from down below hoping it was the guys.

Everybody stared as Carter's head popped up out of the tunnel opening. The young man's eyes frantically looked around and fell on Hogan.

"Carter, where have you guys been?! My orders were…" Hogan paused mid-sentence when he spotted the stricken look on his demolitions man's face. "What's wrong? What happened?" Hogan moved closer to the bed-frame and crouched beside it handing his weapon to Garlotti who stood just behind him sensing he wouldn't need it now. He placed them on the table.

"Colonel, you gotta come quick!" The younger man's face was streaked with tears. "Kinch is hurt real bad. He got shot!"

Hogan and Garlotti said nothing as they stepped over the lower bedframe and followed Carter down the ladder. The two men raced to an open area in the tunnels which was reserved for many things, one of which was for treating injured people. The colonel stared down at the unconscious black man on the metal table with Olsen keeping an eye on the man. The officer stared at Olsen. "Tell me what the hell happened?!"

Olsen wiped his face against the front of his shoulder. "Kinch was shot by Gestapo. Don't know where they came from, sir. There were three of 'em. They just seemed to appear out of nowhere. They shot at us and we returned fire until we ran outta ammo. He must've been hit during the exchange of gunfire. I had one of the guys go get Wilson. He should be here shortly."

Just then camp medic, Sergeant Joe Wilson, followed by his associate Sergeant Paul Anderson, hurried into the area, Wilson carrying his medical bag. His eyes fell on Kinch lying face-down on the table. "What happened?" he asked.

"He's been shot," Hogan explained. "We can't lose him, Joe."

"I'll do my best for 'im, sir," the medic replied beginning his exam. He glanced up at Olsen. "We're gonna need a little help here, sergeant. Think you can stay?"

"Whatever you need, doc, you got it," Olsen replied.

The colonel watched Wilson poke and prod his second-in-command as he examined his injury grimacing as Kinch remained unconscious the entire time.

"Joe…?" he asked fearfully seeing the medic let out a deep breath and shook his head looking grim.

Wilson returned his look. "It's too soon to tell, Colonel. I'll know more after I remove the bullet. But it doesn't appear he was hit in any vital organs. Looks like the bullet is lodged in a fleshy area. It'll take time to repair, but if everything goes well, he should be all right."

Hogan nodded then stared at his second-in-command with deep worry. He looked up with eyes narrowed and brows knitted. "Carter, you and Olsen said it was Gestapo. Are you both sure? Bluebird promised he'd reassign any Gestapo there to an ammo dump a distance from the bridge."

"That may be, Colonel," Olsen replied. "But we know what we saw. The ones who made the arrest were Gestapo."

"Wait a minute…." Hogan was now puzzled. "Arrest? What arrest? And where are Hotchner, LeBeau, and Newkirk?"

"They were arrested by the same three who shot at us," explained Carter. "After we set the explosives and were heading back to camp, somebody yelled for us to stop. Kinch ordered us to split up and run. We returned fire but soon ran out of ammo like Olsen said."

"Carter and I hid behind several bushes," Olsen continued the explanation. "We recognized the uniforms, sir. It was definitely Gestapo. We watched them arrest Newkirk, LeBeau and Hotchner but saw no sign of Kinch. Since we were out of ammo, all we could do is watch as they were taken into custody. Once we were sure they had left the area, we left our hiding place, and before long, found Kinch. We got him back here as fast as we could, Colonel."

Hogan nodded then gestured with his head for Carter to go with him and leave the area giving the others room to work. Once they were alone, Hogan turned the younger man toward him, and put both his hands on his shoulders.

"Andrew, I need you to start at the beginning, and tell me everything you remember from the moment you and the others left the tunnel."

The explosives expert swallowed the lump in his throat as his wet, red eyes met those of his commanding officer. He was still shaken over what had happened to his friend, and worried what they would do if Kinch didn't survive.

"Gee Colonel, I don't know how much I can tell you about what happened. I mean, you really should ask Olsen because he won't skip anything like me, and I…"

"Do the best you can… now tell me what happened."

Andrew took a deep breath and began to talk, taking care not to leave anything out.

* * *

 _ **(Current Time)**_

Hotch yawned as he closed the journal and sat it on the table beside his recliner. He picked up his tumbler and downed the last of his Scotch. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as exhaustion took over his entire body, and before long, darkness swallowed him completely.

He didn't recognize the sound that woke him hours later as he opened his eyes. After he rubbed them, he wiped the crustiness from them having realized what it was. It was his telephone. Glancing at the clock, he noticed it was six-thirty in the morning. He realized he should have gotten up an hour ago, and it was probably Rossi calling him. Aaron yawned and forced himself out of the recliner and trudged toward the telephone resting on the end of the liquor cabinet. He grabbed the receiver.

"Hotchner…" he said with another yawn. Sometimes Dave could be a real pain in his butt.

"Aaron?" replied a female voice, startling him.

"Jessica?" He was wide awake now. His former sister-in-law wouldn't be calling him unless something was wrong. His stomach clenched. "What's wrong?"

"It's Jack."

* * *

(1) 'Verstehen' means 'Understand' per Google .


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Fear gripped his innards. "What about Jack? What's happened? Is he all right? Is he hurt?"

"Calm down, Aaron. Jack's fine. I apologize if I let you think otherwise. It's just he had a nightmare and woke up crying. He refuses to go back to sleep without talking to you."

"But he's physically all right?"

"He's fine."

"Any idea what the nightmare was about, Jess?" Despite his fear vanishing, the worry still persisted.

"It had to do with a puppy named Boone my parents' next-door neighbor has." She went on to explain that she had taken Jack to the park, and the neighbor was there with his eight-month-old Labrador puppy. He kept throwing a ball, and Boone would run after it and bring it back to him. But one throw went further away than he planned. It landed near Jack who didn't see it until the pup had bolted forward and jumped on him instead wanting to play and sat on him.

"Jack became afraid when Boone jumped on him. But everything got resolved when the owner explained to Jack that the pup meant no harm, and only wanted to play. Jack seemed fine afterward. He even pet and played with the pup, and said the pup reminded him of a smaller version of Rossi's dog. He was fine when we came home and through dinner and bath time. He was even fine when he went to bed. But several hours later he woke up crying that a big dog was chasing him, and he was crying for you. Now he refuses to go back to sleep without talking to you. I told him I'd call you and let him speak to you. I apologize for the hour, but he refuses to quiet down and go back to sleep."

"That's all right. Can you put him on the phone?"

"Of course. Just a minute."

Hotch waited hearing the brief exchange between Jessica and his son. After a few seconds came the voice he loved hearing more than anything.

"Daddy…?" asked a timid and scared small voice. He could tell his son had been crying.

"Hey, buddy." Hotch wanted more than anything to wrap his son in his arms, hug him tightly against him, and dry his tears. But as that wasn't possible, all he could do was talk him through his tears. "Aunt Jess told me you had a nightmare and can't go back to sleep, and needed to talk to me. Want to tell me about it?"

"A big dog chased me, daddy. I kept looking for you but couldn't find you anywhere." His son's sniffling pierced his heart.

"Buddy, I want you to listen to me and listen closely. Can you do that for your old dad?"

"You're not old, daddy." Hotch grinned at his son's words.

"I thank you for that. But I want you to listen to me anyway. Can you do that?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry you weren't able to find me when you were scared. But I want you to remember I will never let you be hurt by anybody or anything, even a big dog. Exactly how big was this dog anyway?"

"He was huge, daddy. His name was Boone. He jumped on me and knocked me down, then sat on me." As Hotch listened to the description, he understood one thing children often exaggerated was size.

"Did he hurt you at all?"

"No. He licked my face and got it all wet. It was yucky."

"Jack, dogs show how much they love you when they lick your face. They do that with all people they love. You remember when you first met Uncle Dave's dog, Mudgie, a few years ago? He licks your face because he loves you. And Mudgie is fully grown and no longer a puppy like Aunt Jess said this dog was."

"But he was huge, daddy!" Jack insisted.

Hotch chuckled. "Wasn't Mudgie the same size as Boone when he was smaller?"

"Yeah. Daddy, does Mudgie lick Uncle Dave's face too?"

"I'm sure he does. He loves Uncle Dave. Also, a puppy is like a child. Both you and Boone will get bigger as you continue to grow. Right now Boone is a baby, and all a baby wants to do is play."

"Was I small like that?"

Hotch chuckled. "Yes you were."

"So he's gonna grow big like me?"

"Bigger. Feel better now?"

"Yeah."

"Think you can go back to sleep now?"

"Yeah. Aunt Jess said you would know how to help. You know everything. But don't tell Uncle Spence I said that."

A grin appeared on Hotch's face. "I promise it'll be our secret."

"Thanks daddy."

"You're welcome, Jack. Now go back to sleep. I love you. Goodnight and sweet dreams, buddy."

"Night, dad. I love you too. You wanna speak with Aunt Jess?"

"Yes."

There was another brief exchange of voices between his son and ex sister-in-law before Jessica got on the phone.

"Thank you, Aaron."

"You're welcome. How's everything otherwise?"

"He's having fun playing with his cousins and spending time with mom and dad. He's even helping mom in her garden. You should see him wearing a makeshift gardening apron and dirt on his face and hands. He's having the time of his life."

"I'm glad he's enjoying himself. But I miss him so much. It's too quiet around here without him."

Jess sighed. "It's too bad you couldn't have come with us. And Jack misses you a lot as well. But I understand why you didn't considering how dad feels about you."

Hotch checked his watch. "I'd like to continue taking with you, Jess, but I have to get ready for work. I'm glad I could help Jack get over his nightmare. And please tell him I love and miss him very, very much."

"I will. Thanks again. Goodbye." Jessica hung up the phone on her end.

* * *

Prentiss and Garcia walked through the double doors of the BAU and made their way toward Emily's desk, both carrying Styrofoam cups of coffee. As they did so, Garcia glanced up in the direction of the corner office, and was not surprised to see Hotch in his office apparently hard at work. She shook her head.

"How does he do it?" she asked the raven-haired woman beside her while not looking at the woman.

"How does who do what?" Emily asked with a glance at the tech analyst's face. Once she saw where the blonde was staring, she looked in the same direction and chuckled. "If you tell anybody I'll deny it, but Hotch might live in his office," she teased making Garcia laugh.

* * *

Only Hotch was not working as believed. He had the journal laying open on the desk in front of him, and reading from where he left off earlier.

 _ **(May, 1944 – The Following Morning):**_

After Carter finished telling Hogan what had happened, the officer interlaced his fingers behind his neck, and began to pace while Carter simply watched him.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," he said quietly.

Hogan turned and studied his young sergeant. "Sorry for what? You didn't do anything wrong. You and Olsen managed to not only avoid capture yourselves, but get a wounded Kinch back here in one piece and that's what's important."

"But Colonel…"

"Stop apologizing. Just think about it. If you and Olsen had been captured along with the others, Kinch might have bled to death out there. Nobody even knew he'd been shot. You did the right thing."

Carter's shoulders sagged despite the praise from his commanding officer.

"Besides…" Hogan continued. "Nobody expected any Gestapo to show up at the bridge. I need to talk to Bluebird and find out what the hell happened. If there had been a problem he would have let us know. As he didn't contact us tells me he didn't expect any of his men to be at the bridge when we blew it and the convoy."

Carter rubbed the back of his neck as a thought occurred to him.

"Sir, what are we gonna do about roll call in the morning with four men missing?"

The officer sighed. He had been pondering over that for hours and needed a solution…albeit a temporary one. A minute later, a lazy grin appeared on his face as an idea began to take shape in his devious mind.

Seeing the expression on Hogan's face, Carter grinned. "You have an idea forming, don't you, sir?"

"That I do. I want you to get changed, then inform Olsen and Wilson to come to my office the moment they're finished. Then go upstairs and try and get a little rest. Roll call's gonna be in about three hours and I have things I need to do before then."

"Yes, sir. Colonel, can't I get changed and wait down here until I find out if Kinch is gonna be okay?"

"I'd like to say yes, but I can't. I need you in the barracks because you need to appear at roll call with Olsen. That means if Wilson's still operating, Olsen will have to leave and come outside and join us. In the meantime, I want you to get a little rest. Besides, Wilson said Kinch will be fine." Hogan saw the frown on Carter's face. "I sympathize with you and would like to wait here with you and find out about Kinch. I really would. But we're gonna have enough problems with four men missing roll call and coming up with a temporary solution. I can't afford to have a fifth man missing roll call on top of it. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes, sir. I don't wanna cause another problem for you. I'll go change and then go upstairs and rest."

"Good man," Hogan replied with a smile on his face.

 _ **(Back to Current Time)**_

"I see you're working hard as usual," a familiar voice commented.

Hotch looked up to see a smug–looking Rossi standing in the open doorway leaning against the door frame with hands in his pockets.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" the Unit Chief growled closing the journal and slipping it inside his middle desk drawer. He stared at the older man with his patented stare which didn't faze the older man.

"Why? You wouldn't have heard me anyway considering how engrossed you were with your work," he teased with a smirk.

"Smartass," Hotch growled. "What do you want at this hour?"

"Well for one thing…did you find out if grandpa escaped from the Gestapo?" Rossi walked further into the office and closed the door behind him. He sat down in one of two chairs facing his friend's desk with legs crossed, and arms resting on the arms of the chair.

Hotch shook his head. "Not yet. In fact, I read he might have a concussion and is mistaken for Colonel Hogan by the arresting Gestapo. He, Newkirk, and LeBeau were beaten and tortured. And to make matters worse, the sergeant who arrested them phoned Major Hochstetter, head of the Hammelburg Gestapo telling him he had arrested Colonel Hogan aka Papa Bear."

"So this sergeant thinks your grandfather is Colonel Hogan? That doesn't sound good. What else?"

"Well…Hogan had sent six men to plant explosives to destroy the bridge and the convoy. Grandpa, LeBeau and Newkirk were arrested. Olsen and…"

Rossi held up a hand. "Wait a minute…who's Olsen? That's the first time I've heard his name."

"He's a sergeant who shares Hogan's barracks. Anyhow, he and Carter returned to camp with Sergeant Kinchloe who had been shot."

The older man's eyes widened. "Is he alive?"

"Don't know yet. He was when they got him back to camp. He was being operated on by the camp medic. That's as far as I got when you interrupted me."

"Sorry. But I noticed the lights on in your office and figured you were still here." He noticed his friend seemed a bit distracted. "But something else is on your mind. Care to talk about it? Maybe I can help somehow."

Hotch sighed. "It's not a problem. Jessica called me earlier this morning. Apparently Jack had a nightmare and refused to go back to sleep unless he talked with me."

"Is he all right?"

"Fortunately. Jess told me a neighbor with a Lab puppy about eight months old was at the same park where she took Jack. Seems the pup jumped on him, knocked him down, and sat on him. Jack was fine until he had gone to sleep when he woke up claiming a huge dog jumped on him, knocked him down, and sat on him. He said he looked for me but couldn't find me."

"Were you able to calm him down at all?" Rossi asked genuinely concerned for the child to whom he was 'Uncle Dave,' and he loved like a grandson.

A small smile appeared on the younger man's face. "I was after I compared the pup to Mudgie when he was a puppy. I got him to realize the pup was a baby who was growing up into an adult like he was, but right now was a baby and wanted to play."

Rossi grinned. "That's my boy."

"Thanks. Now that that's out of the way, just what did you want anyway? You had no idea about Jack so it wasn't that."

"And you'd be correct, my friend. I'm here to inform you that the team is gathered in the conference room awaiting their fearless leader to update you on what they found during their research."

Hotch got to his feet. "Then let's not keep them waiting."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

Morgan, Reid, JJ, and Prentiss were seated at the round conference table talking, waiting for their three missing teammates to join them.

"Where's Garcia?" asked Prentiss curiously looking at Morgan.

"Baby Girl is…." Morgan began when the door of the conference room opened, and Garcia, carrying her laptop, hurried inside as fast as her platform heels would allow. Morgan smiled sweetly at the tech analyst. "We were just wondering where you were?"

"I'm right here, Hot Stuff," she replied opening her laptop and powering it up so she would be ready when the meeting began. "Where's Hotch and Rossi?" she asked glancing around the room while waiting for the laptop to be ready.

"We're right here," Hotch answered as he walked through the open door with Rossi close behind him. The older man closed the door behind them and sat down beside the vacant seat at the head of the table. Once the Unit Chief was seated there, the others saw their boss lay something on the table in front of him.

Morgan intertwined his fingers resting them atop the table. He gestured toward his boss. "Is that the uh…famous journal, Hotch?"

"It is," was the reply. The Unit Chief figured Garcia was about to ask a question and held up a hand stopping her before she uttered a word. He glanced at Rossi and then at his entire team. "We were about to leave my office, when Dave suggested it might be a good idea to bring the journal and read a small part of it to you. After what I've read so far, I have come to the conclusion that the story's more fact than fiction, although I do still have a few lingering doubts. But more than anything, I need answers. I figure we can then go over what each of you has found out so far later."

Noticing he had everybody's rapt attention, Hotch opened the journal to the page where he had left off earlier.

 _ **(May, 1944 – The Day After the Mission):**_

Hogan glanced at his watch as he paced back-and-forth in his private quarters. There was an hour before roll call, and that meant an hour before Schultz barged his way into their barracks.

But before he had returned upstairs, Hogan instructed several of his men to pass the word to about ten barracks. He needed an urgent meeting with the barracks' chiefs of those barracks in the tunnels. Once they were present, the officer quickly informed them what was going on, what he required, and to pass the word to the other barracks. After the meeting ended, he went upstairs and directly to his quarters to wait for word on Kinch and to worry.

A sudden knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he announced staring at the closed door and waiting, a concerned expression on his face. An exhausted Joe Wilson, the front of his shirt stained with blood, followed by a nervous looking Carter, entered his quarters.

"How's Kinch?" the officer asked right away.

"He's gonna be fine, Colonel," the medic explained. "The bullet was lodged in a fleshy area and did no damage. He did lose a lot of blood, but in a few weeks he should be as-good-as-new. Olsen and Anderson should be bringing him up into the barracks shortly using a stretcher. It'd be better for Kinch to recover in his own warm bunk than exposed to the dampness and chill of the tunnels."

Both Hogan and Carter heaved a sigh of relief eying each other.

"Thanks, Joe," the Colonel replied, relief clear on his face.

Wilson nodded with a tired smile. "Glad I was able to be of service. Sir, Carter told me you wanted to see me when the operation was finished."

"I did. I understand you're tired, but I need your help with something."

In as few words as possible, the officer explained to the medic what he needed him to do. After they finished talking and walked into the common room, the lower bunk in the corner rattled upward, and Olsen's head appeared as he slowly climbed up the ladder. He maintained a tight grip on one handle of the stretcher and carefully stepped over the bedframe and into the barracks. He eased the stretcher carefully into the barracks from below with an unconscious Kinch securely strapped onto the stretcher.

As Olsen moved further inside the room, Anderson, the assistant medic to Wilson, appeared holding the handles on the other end. Garlotti, Baker, and Carter hurried forward to help with the stretcher finally getting it completely into the barracks. Garlotti struck the hidden mechanism on the upper bunk causing the ladder to rise, and the bunk to drop over the tunnel opening. Then just as carefully, the five men got Kinch onto the lower bunk which was assigned to Carter.

Olsen then faced Carter with an apologetic expression on his face.

"Kinch is resting comfortably," Olsen explained to Hogan, then looked at Carter. "Sorry about having to use your bunk causing you to have to move," he said.

The young sergeant grinned. "That's okay if Kinch uses it for now. It's for a worthy cause."

Olsen faced his commanding officer. "I understand you wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, I did," Hogan replied. He explained his plan again which he hoped would give them a temporary respite until they were able to get the missing men back safely. "Any questions?" The Colonel asked with arms wrapped around himself looking at the others.

"We really don't have much choice," Wilson agreed. He checked his watch. "I'd better clean up before Schultz gets here." He hastily left the barracks through the tunnel entrance.

"Okay, let's get ready for Schultz," Hogan ordered them.

A few minutes later, the barracks door burst open and in waddled the obese figure of Schultz trying to look menacing which the men found laughable.

"Raus! Raus! Everybody outside for roll call! Colonel Hogan! Roll call! All prisoners outside for…" He happened to glance up at Newkirk's bunk. His eyes widened and his jaw fell open. "Wha...what…who….who is that?" he stammered. "And why is he in Newkirk's bunk?"

"Who's who?" asked Hogan zipping up his bomber jacket halfway, studying the large man. Schultz stared at the officer.

"That man in Newkirk's bunk. Who…who….who…?"

"Him?" asked the American innocently. "That's Corporal Cuthbert from barracks seven, Schultz. Don't you recognize him?" The officer had gotten men from other barracks to replace the three missing men.

"What is he doing in Newkirk's bunk?" the guard asked again. "Colonel Hogan, please….not again." Schultz looked around the room and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he noticed the man in Hotchner's bunk.

"And why is Sergeant Benjamin in Sergeant Hotchner's bunk? Colonel Hogan…please don't tell me Hotchner and Newkirk are missing."

Hogan wrapped his arms around himself and grinned. "I could say they're here, but then I'd be lying. Besides, you asked me not to tell you, remember?"

"Kommandant Klink will send me to the Russian Front if he finds out two prisoners are missing."

"To be honest, it's three…" chimed in Carter with a goofy smile.

"Three?" Schultz groaned running a pudgy hand down his face. "Who else is missing?

"LeBeau."

"The cockroach? But where…why…."

"Don't ask," Hogan advised him. "And that's the bad news."

Schultz stared at the officer. "Bad news? You mean there's good news?"

Hogan shrugged. "I think its good news. Kinch is here."

The guard turned his attention to Kinch who was in Carter's bunk. Even the guard could tell the sergeant didn't seem well at all. He turned back to the officer.

"What is wrong with Kinch? And why is he in Carter's bunk?"

"It's like this," Hogan draped an arm around the guard's shoulders. "Kinch was shot and needed an operation."

"Shot? How did he get shot? No! Don't tell me! I don't want to know!"

"Smart decision," Carter added grinning.

"What about Newkirk, LeBeau, and Hotchner? What do I tell the big shot?" Schultz stared at Hogan hoping the American had an answer for him.

"Well, seeing as they'll be back in a few days…" Hogan started. He hoped he wasn't telling a lie.

"A few days? But…but…was ist los?"

"It's very simple, Schultz…" Hogan reaching into his jacket. "All you have to do is tell Klink that Kinch, LeBeau, Newkirk, and Hotchner are all sick with influenza but are present. Wilson will back you up on that." The colonel pulled out two chocolate bars and waved them back and forth in front of the guard. Hogan grinned when the sergeant's eyes followed the delicious treats longingly.

"You are asking me to lie to the Kommandant!" Schultz tried to sound indignant at the suggestion.

"Well if that's the way you feel…" Hogan shrugged and started to put the chocolate back inside his jacket when Schultz quickly snatched them from the officer's hands.

"But I do it anyway," he said with a smile, eyeing the tasty treats.

"Good boy," Hogan replied patting the fat guard on his shoulder as the guard turned away and started to leave. But before he opened the door, he walked back to where the American officer was standing. He bent close to the man's ear so as not wanting to be overheard.

"Exactly where are Newkirk, Hotchner, and LeBeau?"

"Well Kinch is here. As for the others, are you sure you want to know?" Hogan grinned with a devilish smile.

"No! Do not tell me! I do not want to know!" Schultz turned abruptly and marched back toward the door again. "I know nothing! I hear nothing! I see nothing!" He opened the door slamming it behind him.

Olsen approached the colonel from the rear. "Sir, can you trust Schultz to go along with your story?"

"Of course. He knows if he doesn't he'll be on his way to the winter games in Stalingrad."

"How do you figure that, sir?" asked Carter.

"Simple. If Klink finds out three men are missing, he's going to blame it on Schultz."

"Colonel, how are you gonna stop Klink from barging in here to check on the men?" asked Garlotti. "Soon as he sees 'em he's gonna know the truth."

Hogan sighed. "You guys worry too much. He won't set one foot inside this barracks."

But Garlotti wasn't satisfied. "But why wouldn't he…"

"Easy. Do you honestly believe Klink would set foot in here with influenza present? It's highly contagious. The only thing we have to do is get the guys back before too long. This diversion won't last forever." He headed toward the door. "Okay guys, let's not keep Schultz waiting."

* * *

LeBeau and Newkirk watched and waited nervously as the heavy iron door opened and in walked von Eisenburg with hands clasped behind his back; a blank expression on his face. They could partially see an armed guard nearby.

"What are you two saboteurs complaining about?" he hissed.

"Our mate here might have a concussion after the way you beat 'im," Newkirk pointed out. He hoped not to antagonize the German further and not bring more pain down on them. "Ole Hochstetter ain't gonna be happy with 'im bein' in this condition."

"He needs a doctor," added LeBeau worriedly.

But von Eisenburg didn't move an inch. Instead, he studied the man on the floor with disgust.

"Look, chum, if you don't believe us, look for yourself."

The two of them backed away from Hotchner, hoping that by moving a short distance away it would prove they weren't a threat. And also not give the armed guard a reason to shoot.

The German took a step closer to Hotchner and stared down at the man.

"Look at me, swine!" he sneered. When there was no response, von Eisenburg poked the man with the toe of his boot, and there was barely a reaction from Hotchner. A smirk appeared as he turned his glare on the others.

"There is nothing wrong with your Colonel," he explained coldly. "As long as he can talk it will be fine. Besides, why should we waste having a doctor come and examine him when we are going to execute him in the end?" He smiled a twisted smile. "You should be glad you are all still breathing." That said, the German abruptly turned and stormed out of the cell closing the door. The sound of it being locked could be heard.

"Filthy Bosche!" LeBeau hissed as he moved closer to Hotchner's side. "He does not care." He stared at the injured man.

"I agree with you, little mate," Newkirk added as he also moved closer to the man. He rested a hand on Hotchner's shoulder and closely studied the man. Hotchner definitely need medical care right away or he could die without it.

Both men noticed Hotchner was fighting to stay awake but kept nodding off and falling asleep. And whenever he did, it was either Newkirk or LeBeau who shook him awake.

"C'mon, mon ami, you cannot go to sleep."

Hotchner massaged his forehead. "Head hurts…tired…nauseous…" he complained.

"We understand, mate. But you can't go to sleep on us. You need to stay awake."

"Oui. We know, but you must do what we tell you. It is for your own good."

* * *

 _ **(Current Time):**_

Hotch closed the journal and looked around the table at each member of his team, waiting for their reactions, if any.

"Wow," was all Morgan could say glancing around the room. "Sounds like your grandfather really suffered at the hands of the Gestapo."

"Oh, sir…" Garcia's lower lip was trembling and her eyes moist. "I'm so sorry your grandfather was injured by that nasty Gestapo person. It's too bad he's dead, sir, because if he was alive, I could make him wish he was dead."

"It's all right," Hotch assured her. "I assure you my grandfather wasn't permanently injured." He looked around at the others. "Anyone have anything to say?"

"It sounds to me like this Colonel Hogan can easily pull the wool over the eyes of his barracks guard," commented Reid. "That alone is highly unusual based on what I've read about World War two and the treatment of prisoners in other POW camps. Also, while reading the interviews of several prisoners of the Germans, there was no doubt that the guards were cruel and brutal. But things appeared different at Stalag 13. This Kommandant Klink appears to have followed the Geneva Convention on the treatment of his prisoners. Add to that what we've just heard, only further confirms my suspicion that something else is definitely going on in Stalag 13, and that it centers around Colonel Hogan."

"I think the kid's got a point," Rossi added leaning back in his chair. "We need to find out what. Finding out what that something is could be the key to solving this entire mystery."

"I agree," Hotch answered with a glance at the older man. He turned his eyes on Morgan and Garcia. "What about you two? Find anything other than what you showed us on Marie Monet and the offspring of these men?"

Garcia smiled as she stood and handed out copies of what she had printed earlier.

"Indeed I did, Bossman." She looked around to make sure everybody had a copy. Satisfied, she then began to explain the contents of the pages she had given them. "Okay crime fighters, feast your eyes on the papers before you. You can see that Colonel Hogan came from a military family."

"Also, he and his father were both in POW camps in Germany, but in different wars. Also, the Kommandant of the camp Hogan's dad was in didn't adhere to the Geneva Convention, and treated his prisoners cruelly," explained Morgan.

Hotch was going thru the papers Garcia had given him, and something caught his eye. He looked up from his reading.

"Garcia, is this right? Sergeant Kinchloe impersonated an African prince who was visiting Stalag 13?"

"Yes, sir," the tech analyst replied. "That was how he met the princess he married years after the war."

Rossi, who had also been reading, looked over at her. "Kitten, am I reading this right?" he asked with knitted eyebrows.

"What's that, sir?"

"That a negotiator from Berlin was sent to Stalag 13 to not only pick up the prince and princess. But was also bringing a large amount of cash with him to complete a deal made between the prince and Germany?"

"That's what I found out, my Italian Stallion."

"That's what I thought," Rossi replied stroking his goatee as he again glanced at something on the paper in his hand.

"Something troubling you, Dave?" asked Hotch, puzzled.

"Most definitely. The negotiator brought a large sum of cash with him from Berlin. And it says nothing here about the cash exchanging hands with the prince. So my question is…what happened to the cash?" he asked looking at the others.

Hotch and the team all exchanged glances with each other realizing another mystery had been sent their way.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"Garcia?" Hotch asked. "Did you find anything on the money during your research?"

"No, sir," the tech analyst replied as her fingers raced over the keyboard. "I didn't get a chance to before you called this meeting. I'm sorry," she added apologetically.

"Forget the apology. Check on it now. We need to know what happened to that money. Find everything."

"Yes, sir."

Within a few seconds, Garcia thought she had a partial answer.

"Okay. I found something, but it doesn't really give a complete answer, sir," she said looking up at Hotch.

"That's okay. Just tell us what you found."

"Yes, sir. Well, according to moi, Germany was using the German mark as currency until about February, 1943, when Hitler recalled the mark and replaced it with the Reichsmark. He did that so the paper bills couldn't be counterfeited like the old marks were. The Reichsmarks was what the negotiator brought with him from Berlin to give to the prince." (1)

"Well that explains the money," Rossi said. "And he gave the money to Sergeant Kinchloe thinking he was the prince. That means Hogan got the money instead of the prince."

"Yeah, but what did Colonel Hogan do with the money?" asked Prentiss.

"This may sound strange, but hear me out," Rossi stated. "What if Hogan used the money to finance his underground operation."

Morgan shook his head disbelievingly. "C'mon, Rossi, you can't be serious."

The older man stared at the black agent. "Do you have another explanation as to what was done with the money?" he asked with arched eyebrows.

"No, but conning the Germans into funding his underground operation takes a lot of pardon my saying so…balls on his part."

"True. But from what we learned about this Colonel Hogan so far, I'd say having balls is a more than exact description."

As he listened to the others talking, Reid was mulling over something.

"Garcia, I need you to check something for me right away."

"What do you need, boy-wonder?" the tech analyst asked eying him.

"I need you to check and find out if anything unusual took place in the area of Stalag 13 which has no logical explanation," the younger agent asked.

"Hold your horses, my resident genius," Garcia replied as fingers raced over her keyboard.

"What's on your mind, kid?" asked Rossi.

"I'm not sure exactly. But I want to see if anything happened in the vicinity of Stalag 13 that has no logical answer as to how it was resolved but that it somehow was."

"You're saying this has a connection to Hogan?" asked Prentiss.

"It's highly possible. Especially if the resolution can't be explained satisfactorily."

"Here's something…" Garcia announced staring at the screen. "Two somethings really."

"What are they?" Reid asked.

"Okay, the first one was a General Aloysius Barton was shot down in the area of Stalag 13, and brought to the camp under heavy guard. He was known as the chief of all daylight bombing. But I couldn't find anything else on him until he miraculously showed up in England days later with no explanation whatsoever as to how he escaped from Germany. Huh, well this is weird even if I do say so myself." (2)

"What is?" asked Rossi.

"After Barton was captured by the Germans, shortly afterward, a Field Marshal named Von Heinke, was captured possibly by the underground and flown to England."

"Why the hell did they do that?" asked JJ. "It makes no sense to me."

"Hold your horses, and I'll tell you. Apparently London wanted Barton back so they offered the Germans a swap…they would swap the Field Marshal for Barton. The Germans reported that England's Prime Minister Winston Churchill, arranged the trade with the Germans, who accepted the deal because they wanted Von Heinke back. So the swap was arranged. The minute Barton boarded a plane to London, the underground told the Germans where they could find a drugged Von Heinke whom they believed had been returned to Germany. And here's one other little tidbit you'll find interesting."

"There's more?" asked Prentiss with arched eyebrows that disappeared into her bangs.

"Oh is there, my fine furry friends. It seems that Barton was Hogan's superior officer while Hogan was commander of the 504th Bomber Group."

"You said there were two things. What's the other thing?" asked Hotch.

"There was a Swedish chemist, Doctor Karl Swenson. He uh….for lack of a better word…'persuaded' to work for the Germans. They wanted him to finish developing a formula for a metal alloy stronger and lighter than steel." (3)

"Huh," commented JJ pursing her lips. "What happened to him and the formula?"

"Based on the 911 I have in front of me, Swenson was brought to Stalag 13 to continue his work. But he never did complete his work, or at least there's nothing which says he did. Anyway, he apparently disappeared and was never seen again, until he mysteriously arrived in England accompanied by a young lady named Magda Tischler, who later became his wife. There was no explanation as to how they both arrived there." She looked at the others for a reaction.

"What are you thinking, Spence?" asked JJ noticing that the young doctor had a pensive expression on his face.

"Could it just be a coincidence?" asked Emily.

"I don't think so," Reid explained. "Of course I can't be certain. But to me, if these two incidents occurred in the area of the prison camp, Hogan must be involved somehow."

"Like getting people out of Germany?" asked Prentiss with raised eyebrows. "Wouldn't that be a little bold on his part to carry things that far?"

"Farther than committing sabotage and espionage?" asked Morgan staring at the raven-haired woman.

Prentiss didn't respond, but just shrugged her shoulders. She had no answer for that.

"Morgan might be onto something," Rossi added. "It just seems like too many things happened in the area of the camp where Hogan was to simply be a coincidence in my opinion. Penelope, who brought this Karl Swanson to Stalag 13 anyway?"

The tech analyst studied her screen. "It says here a Luftwaffe General named Albert Burkhalter was responsible for the chemist coming to Stalag 13. In fact, he recommended it."

"Tell me if I'm wrong…" Emily began waving her hands animated. "But why would this General bring all these important people and arrange for important prisoners and such to come to Stalag 13 while aware of all these strange goings on there?"

"Especially from what we know about the camp so far," JJ continued. "It just sounds to me as if Burkhalter brought everything and everybody to Stalag 13 on purpose. Maybe because he knew with Hogan there, the American officer would take care of everything."

"Wait a minute," Morgan interrupted, staring at JJ. "Are you and Prentiss saying you think Burkhalter was on the side of the Allies? And that he delivered these things and people there because he knew of Hogan's operation?"

"Why not?" asked the brunette woman. "You got another explanation why with all the strange occurrences going on there, important people and things were still brought there?"

"You're saying Burkhalter is on the side of the allies and a traitor to his own country," Morgan replied.

"Stranger things have happened," Reid explained.

Garcia had been listening to everything. "Maybe I'm missing something here," she said. "But what does all this mean?" She looked around the room.

"It means, Garcia…" Hotch began to explain. "That Colonel Hogan may have had an operation right under the Germans' feet without their knowledge. Now whether this General Burkhalter had prior knowledge of it we'll probably never know."

"I don't understand. What operation are we talking about, sir?"

"An operation…" Rossi answered. "…that would keep the Germans from winning the war and help the Allies would be my guess."

The entire team exchanged looks among themselves as what they waited for and what they discussed had sunk in at last.

"So what are we saying exactly?" asked a still puzzled Garcia looking between Hotch and Rossi.

"We're saying, kitten, that Colonel Hogan ran an underground operation to help people. To help people escape to England from Germany. To commit espionage and acts of sabotage all to help the Allies," Rossi explained carefully. "And what better place to carry on an operation of that kind than from inside a POW camp."

"Is that even possible, Rossi?" Morgan asked still doubting that what they learned could in any way be true. "I mean, c'mon, even you have to admit all this sounds impossible. It does to me."

Rossi smirked. "To quote that famous line by Sherlock Holmes…. 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.'" (4)

"We're not talkin' about Sherlock Holmes," Morgan said.

"I realize that, but the premise is the same."

Derek Morgan could only look at the older man as he had no response.

* * *

Once the meeting in the conference room ended, the team members returned to their desks, and Garcia, JJ, Rossi and Hotch to their respective offices to finish out the day. After the work day ended, JJ, Emily, Reid, and Morgan left for the day. Garcia stayed as she had work to do for other units within the BAU. Rossi sat in his office going over the papers supplied by the team and to decide if there was anything they missed. Hotch pulled out the journal again, leaned back in his plush chair, and began to read.

* * *

 _ **(May, 1944 – Continuation):**_

Fuchs sensed something big must have happened the minute he walked through the doors into Gestapo Headquarters and was confronted by the excited chatter. Glancing around, he tried to find somebody to ask what had happened, when a young corporal he recognized as Corporal Schneider, hurried up to him.

"Captain, have you heard the news?" he asked, a look of excitement on his face.

"Nein. Was ist los?" the officer asked, eyebrows knitted and keeping his face blank.

"Sergeant von Eisenburg captured Papa Bear and two of his men last night!"

Fuchs was floored hearing this news, but hid his reaction well. What he was just told about Hogan shocked him, but he couldn't let his concern be obvious. The American would need his help, and Fuchs' mind struggled to come up with a way to carry out what had to be done without blowing his own cover. But first he needed to find out how and where such a thing happened since he had reassigned his men so they wouldn't be anywhere near the bridge.

"Excellent news. Tell me, where and when did this happen?"

"He was captured near the Schweinfurt Bridge which was destroyed along with the convoy crossing it last night."

Fuchs' eyebrows arched. "The Schweinfurt Bridge and the convoy were both destroyed, corporal? Are you certain of this fact?"

"Jawohl, captain."

Fuchs blue eyes narrowed as anger crossed his face. He glared at the corporal.

"And why wasn't I informed of this right away?!" he bellowed. Others in the area stopped whatever they were doing, and stared at the officer they feared more than Hochstetter. Nobody wanted to anger Fuchs, who had a habit of sending incompetent men to the Eastern Front. "Where is von Eisenburg now?"

"I do not know, sir."

Fuchs ground his lower jaw so hard he might have broken his teeth. "Find him and have him report to my office at once!"

"Jawohl, Herr Captain." Schneider hastily saluted before he turned and hastened away on his assigned task. Fuchs stormed in the direction of his office to await the sergeant's presence. He was so angry right now. Also, he was inwardly afraid for the American officer and his men, and also for himself.

But more than that, he needed to know what had gone wrong last night. If Hogan had changed the target, or added the ammo dump as an extra target last night, he would have told Fuchs beforehand, but he hadn't. So without speaking with the sergeant, the only thing Fuchs could assume is that the man disobeyed a direct order, and that is something he refused to let pass. He sat down at his desk, and struggled to get a tight rein on his anger when someone knocked on his office door.

"Enter!" the officer ordered. The door opened and von Eisenburg entered, a look of smugness and pride on his face which he didn't even try and hide from Fuchs. He saluted the captain.

"Sir, Corporal Schneider said you wished to speak with me about last night."

"Sit down, sergeant," Fuchs ordered coldly, his blue eyes boring a hole in the man's head. He rose from his chair and stood in front of the other man, hands clasped behind his back. Von Eisenburg, noticing the expression on the officer's face, swallowed nervously and lost a lot of his smugness. He sensed this meeting with Fuchs would not go well. Probably because the captain hadn't captured Papa Bear himself and was probably jealous.

One thing about the captain that was widely known, no matter how angry he got, he never raised his voice unlike Hochstetter who would scream and yell. This made Fuchs much more menacing as he was unpredictable and someone to fear.

"I want your report as to what happened last night and why I wasn't informed. Also, why did you disobey my orders?" he growled.

Von Eisenburg gave Fuchs a detailed report, careful not to forget anything. When he was done, he watched Fuchs, waiting for his reaction. He didn't have long to wait.

The officer glared at the man in the chair. "While I say excellent work on capturing the elusive Papa Bear, sergeant, I also find myself extremely displeased as to how it was accomplished. You not only disobeyed my direct orders, but you left your post here unmanned, and you endangered the lives of the men guarding the ammo dump."

Von Eisenburg shifted his position in his seat and smirked at the officer. He truly believed Fuchs was jealous.

"I did no such thing, captain," he sneered. He would not let Fuchs deprive him of the accolades he would get. "I had a hunch Papa Bear would try something to destroy the convoy and the bridge, and I was right. You should be pleased that I captured the most dangerous man in Germany as the major often calls him."

Fuchs' eyes hardened. "And you think going rogue justifies you disobeying my orders and endangering the men at the ammo dump? For that you should be rewarded? What if back-up had been needed? There was nobody here to send out anybody to help. Those men there would have been on their own if trouble happened. Did you ever stop and think about that, sergeant?" He sneered at the man disdainfully. "Nein, I don't suppose you did."

Von Eisenburg straightened up in his chair. He felt his confidence returning. "I accomplished what nobody had been able to do up until now. I captured Papa Bear near the site of his sabotage of the bridge and the convoy. And if you can't praise me for it, Major Hochstetter was quick to do so when I spoke with him."

The sergeant's admission stunned Fuchs. He stiffened his posture and intensified his glare. He didn't hear correctly, did he?

"Was hast du gesagt, Sergeant?" (5)

"I contacted the major. He was quite pleased."

Fuchs ground his lower jaw. "You interrupted the major while he was on leave instead of contacting me? I am in charge whenever the major isn't here. Or did you forget that?" he said in a now dangerously low voice. When a grin on the man's face appeared, the captain's anger increased tenfold.

He calmly grabbed the butt of his sidearm, and slowly removed it from its holster. With weapon in hand, he let his arm hang at his side, his finger on the trigger.

"Get out of my sight, sergeant! And I don't want to see you here again until your next shift. Verstehen? Now get out before I use this weapon! I do not accept such insolence from those under me."

The sergeant, eyes now wide with fear, nearly jumped up from the chair and bolted from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

After he stared at the closed door for a moment, Fuchs then glanced at his sidearm still in his hand.

"I can't shoot you yet, sergeant." He stuck his weapon back in his holster. "I'm going to need someone to blame this mess on, and you'll come in useful."

* * *

(1)In Season 1, in the episode The Prince and The Phone Company, the German mark had been replaced by the Reichsmark.

(2)The General Swap took place in Season 2.

(3)How to Win Friends and Influence Nazis was in Season 3.

(4)That quote by Sherlock Holmes is a favorite of mine, and is from The Sign of The Four.

(5)"Was hast du gesagt, Sergeant?" means "What did you say, sergeant?" per Google .


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

 _ **(Continuation):**_

Fuchs massaged his forehead as a pounding headache started. Today was going to be a long day for him. He was well aware he would have to deal with von Eisenburg and his two friends in the end. He could ill afford to have rogue men under him. It was not only unwise, but dangerous for him and everyone in the underground. But first he needed to visit the prisoners. It was important to find out what condition Hogan and his men were in, and just how badly they had been hurt. It was common knowledge in the Gestapo that von Eisenburg had a history of brutality with prisoners, and Fuchs dreaded what the man might have done to the prisoners.

The captain let out a deep breath and reached for the doorknob. But as he opened the door, he nearly ran into Corporal Schneider. The slightly shorter man stepped back and look apologetic at the officer.

"I apologize, Herr Captain. I did not realize you were on your way out."

"No need to apologize. I assume you have something to report as you were about to enter my office. I was just on my way to check on the prisoners."

Schneider let out a deep breath. "That is why I needed to see you right away, sir. A terrible mistake has been made."

Fuchs eyes narrowed. "What mistake?"

Schneider suddenly looked nervous as he studied the officer.

"I asked you a question corporal. What mistake?"

"After I heard the news about Papa Bear, I admit I was curious, so I went downstairs to the cells and slid open the small window to have a look. I am certain the prisoners didn't see me."

"And…?"

"Captain, Colonel Hogan is not one of the prisoners. In fact, I have no idea who this man is."

The officer's eyes had a dangerous look which sent chills down Schneider's back. He stepped closer to the corporal.

"What do you mean Colonel Hogan isn't one of the prisoners?" he hissed.

Schneider swallowed the lump in his throat. "It's true, sir. The man Sergeant von Eisenburg captured is not Hogan. He is like Hogan in looks, but I'm positive it's not him."

Fuchs, while silently relieved that it wasn't the American colonel who had been caught, had a nagging suspicion as to who it might be. He had met the man a few short days ago.

"Are you certain of this?"

"Jawohl."

Fuchs didn't need to question Schneider further. The corporal, being Hochstetter's personal driver, had driven the major many times to Stalag 13, and could recognize Hogan by sight. And saying the man von Eisenburg had identified as Papa Bear was, in reality, someone else, was not only a great relief, but a problem as well.

"You did well. Danke for this information. But I still need to see the prisoners and find out exactly who we do have." Fuchs noticed Schneider had not moved. "Is there something else you wish to report?"

"Jawohl, sir. I…the sergeant has bragged he contacted Major Hochstetter about his capturing Papa Bear. And I understand the major is now on his way back to Hammelburg."

"I am aware of what he did, corporal. And I can say with assurance that the major will not be pleased that his leave was interrupted and given false information as well."

Schneider shivered understanding that his boss would explode when he found out the truth. But he had no sympathy for von Eisenburg because the man brought it on himself by jumping the gun so to speak.

"What do you want me to do, sir?"

"I want you to find out if the major has departed from Bamberg yet. If he has, find out exactly when he will arrive in Hammelburg. Hopefully I can straighten out this embarrassing mess the sergeant has placed us in with his disobedience."

"Jawohl. But sir, what if he hasn't left yet?"

"Then I want you to transfer him to my office right away, and hopefully we can stop him before he leaves.' Fuchs let out a deep breath through his nose. "But something tells me hearing the news about Papa Bear, the major has probably already left Bamberg. But try anyway and get back to me as-soon-as-possible. I will be checking on our prisoners."

"Jawohl, captain." Schneider and Fuchs exchanged salutes before the corporal hurried away on his assigned task.

The captain shook his head negatively. And to make matters worse, his boss was on his way back to town. So whatever he and Hogan came up with, it would have to be done before Hochstetter returned or there would be hell to pay for everybody.

Fuchs, heading in the direction where the cells were located, first had a small detour to make. He stopped outside a closed door on which was a sign reading 'RECORDING ROOM.' This was the room where the cells which were bugged, recorded whatever was said by those in the cells. Knowing this room was seldom manned, Fuchs removed a set of keys from his pocket. He unlocked the door, and turned off the recording machine before he left the room and locked the door. The last thing he needed was to be overheard by someone. He then made his way to the cell area. Once he turned a corner, he spotted two armed guards posted outside one cell. He smirked as he went closer.

One of the guards, a corporal, looked around hearing the approaching footsteps, and came to attention. He ordered his fellow guard, a private, to come to attention also as the officer approached.

"I want to question the prisoners alone," Fuchs ordered coolly, blue eyes boring into both men. "Open the door then leave me."

"But Herr Captain…" the corporal began nervously. "Is it wise to go in there alone? The prisoners might…"

"Besides…" the private interrupted. "Papa Bear is in there. He is a dangerous man."

Fuchs rested his hand on his sidearm and smiled a twisted smile. "I am quite capable of handling _any_ prisoner. Even Papa Bear. Now _leave!_ I am quickly losing my patience."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain." The corporal removed a set of keys from his belt, and unlocked the cell door. He and his partner moved further down the hall where they could be available should the captain need their help. But far enough away to give the captain the privacy he wanted.

Satisfied it was safe, Fuchs pulled open the door and walked inside the cell, closing it behind him. He stood in front of the door with hands behind his back. The sight which met his eyes cut into him like a knife.

Having heard the door open, LeBeau and Newkirk both looked up at their visitor. Relief showed on their faces seeing a friendly face for once.

Fuchs gestured with his hands that the bug in their cell had been turned off and there was no danger of anybody hearing what was said.

"Blimey, mate, are we glad to see you," the Englander said wearily.

"Oui. Can you get us out of here, Mon Ami? Hotchner needs a doctor."

The captain approached the men and crouched down beside Hotchner. He shook his head sadly. Von Eisenburg had done a job on these men. All three had cuts, bruises and other assorted injuries, but Hotchner seemed to have gotten the worst of the treatment.

"Did von Eisenburg alone do this?" he asked looking at the others. They saw the deep concern in Fuchs' eyes.

"Oui," LeBeau explained with disgust. "That filthy Kraut thinks he is Colonel Hogan."

"I know," Fuchs replied. "And he's phoned Major Hochstetter who was away on leave. The major was told it was Papa Bear who was captured and is on his way back to Hammelburg as we speak."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "That's just bloody great, that is, mate," he said sarcastically. "You know what'll happen once ole Hochstetter finds out he ain't got the Gov'nor. He'll use us to get to the Colonel."

"Nein. You have my promise I will not allow that to happen. I will get all of you out of here before the major returns. Are you two all right otherwise?"

"Just the usual bruises and injuries courtesy of the management of the hotel Gestapo," Newkirk teased.

"But Sergeant Hotchner received the worst of it when that filthy Bosche mistook him for the Colonel. He just kept hitting him and hitting him. He would not stop."

As they were talking, Hotchner's eyes opened a slit and he spotted the Gestapo officer. He sneered at the man despite the pain the action caused.

"You…" he said, barely audible. "This is…all your…fault. I will…make…you pay. Will…kill…you. Promise." He couldn't continue as his head lolled to the side.

Bluebird sighed realizing he had inherited another problem as if he needed any more. In his current condition, Hotchner was a danger to him personally. The man was capable of saying anything without warning; even the wrong thing. And if he did and the wrong person heard it, Fuchs career, and more importantly his life, and those of his loved ones would be over and quite painfully.

"Me thinks he has a concussion," Newkirk explained. "But I ain't no doctor. Louie and I tried to convince that sergeant what arrested us to get a doctor and he refused."

"Oui, he did. All he would say is why waste getting a doctor for someone who's only going to be executed in the end."

Fuchs was enraged hearing this news. "Do not worry," he explained. "I will make sure to get a doctor here to examine all three of you. I'm also checking the exact time Major Hochstetter will be arriving here. Then I will contact Papa Bear and see what we can do to get all of you out of here. Just try and hang on a bit longer." He glanced at Hotchner again with worry.

"We'll try and keep him from saying something he shouldn't, mate."

Fuchs nodded and got to his feet. "I must leave now before somebody gets suspicious. But I will contact a doctor right away. You have my word."

Newkirk grinned a little. "We trust you, mate. Just try not to take too long getting us outta here."

The German officer gave the men a sad smile before he left the cell and closed the door. He gestured to the guards who were down the hall, and indicated he was finished. The corporal with the keys locked the door, then he and his partner resumed their positions outside the cell door. The captain returned to the recording room, turned the listening device back on, then left to return to his own office.

* * *

The minute he returned to his office, the captain had no chance to relax. Right after he sat down in his chair, he grabbed the receiver of his telephone and pressed it against his ear. He ordered his secretary to connect him with the phone number he knew by heart. It was the phone number of Beelitz Memorial Hospital. He let the phone ring two or three times before somebody picked up on the other end.

"Guten Morgan," said a pleasant female voice. "Beelitz Memorial."

"This Captain Fuchs of the Gestapo."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain. How can I be of service?"

"Is Doctor Prust there?" (1)

"Ja, he is."

"It's urgent I speak with him right away. The Gestapo is in urgent need of his services." Fuchs found himself praying the man was available to come to the phone.

"Hold a minute, Herr Captain, and I will get him for you."

"Danke."

Fortunately for Fuchs, it was only about a minute or two before the person in question was on the phone.

"This is Doctor Prust, Captain. How can I be of service to the Gestapo?" The doctor had met the Gestapo captain a year ago and considered him a good friend.

"Doctor, your services are needed at Gestapo Headquarters right away. We have three prisoners who need medical help."

"I see. What are their injuries?"

"Many cuts and bruises. Also one has possible broken ribs and a concussion."

Prust sighed. "I will be there as soon as I can."

"Danke, doctor. Auf Wiedershen."

"Auf Wiedershen, captain." The call was disconnected.

Doctor Michael Prust stared at the receiver in his hand for a few seconds. He was worried about these prisoners. For Fuchs to ask him to come to Gestapo Headquarters, he must be as worried as he was. It was unusual for the Gestapo to care about prisoners. There was never any doubt on his part that he would help them if he could. He glanced at the nurse who answered the phone originally. She studied him with concern.

'Herr Doctor, is everything all right?"

Prust offered the woman a grim smile. "I must leave at once for Gestapo Headquarters, and I don't know how soon I will be back. Please have Doctor Moller cover for me until I return." (2)

"Jawohl, Herr Doctor."

Prust quickly turned away and headed to his office to grab his black bag and make sure he had everything he needed before he left. He had been a member of the underground for several years. In fact, it was shortly after his brother, Otto Mueller, had joined. But to separate himself from his brother should there be trouble from the Gestapo, the doctor changed his last name from Mueller to Prust. The name change had come in very useful at times with the underground work he did. It allowed him to help fellow operatives and not be linked with his brother in times like this with the Gestapo. He was never suspected and deemed to be a loyal German thus allowing him move about freely. And while he hated to have a pro-Nazi man like Moller cover for him, even he had to admit the man was a good doctor. And that was despite his affiliation and devotion to the Nazis being frowned on by people.

Once he was satisfied he had everything he thought he would need, he walked briskly out the front doors of the hospital and walked to his car.

* * *

After his phone call, Fuchs leaned forward putting both elbows on his desk and massaging his temples with his fingertips. This was a complete mess for all involved, but a mess that could be resolved with a well thought-out plan. But at least Hogan was not in custody, he told himself. But once his boss got a look at the prisoners, he would recognize Newkirk and LeBeau for sure, and discover Hotchner was not Hogan. And once that happened, it would lead the major right to Stalag 13. And that was something Fuchs could not allow to happen. But right now he needed good news.

A knock on his door caused him to raise his head and straighten his posture. "Enter," he ordered.

The door opened and Corporal Schneider looked in nervously.

"Herr Captain?"

Fuchs waved his hand ushering him to come closer. Schneider cautiously walked into the office and closed the door. The officer noticed the man held a clipboard in his hand.

"I have the information you wanted, sir."

"Gut. Tell me."

Schneider looked at the clipboard. "When I called Bamberg I spoke with the major's Mutter. (3) She told me he had left maybe an hour ago but she wasn't sure. I then called the train station in Bamberg. The major bought a ticket for Munich." He went on to explain the major once in Munich would have at least a twenty-four hour wait for a train from there to Stuttgart. And from there a three-hour delay for a train from there to Hammelburg. "What this all comes down to, sir, is that it will take about forty-eight hours before the major returns to Hammelburg."

Fuchs sighed but not with worry, but with relief. At last he had a bit of good news. The time it took for the major to return would give him and Hogan a chance to come up with a way to rescue the men.

"Danke, corporal. It's unfortunate that the major could not be stopped from leaving Bamberg. He had been planning this leave for a while. But I know from experience a train from there to Munich takes about eight hours alone. I will call the Munich station and leave a message for him with the ticket master. Maybe I can stop him from making the rest of this trip back."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain. Is there anything else you want me to do?"

"Ja. I telephoned Doctor Prust at the hospital. He will be here soon to examine the prisoners. I did not like the condition one of them is in when I saw them. When the doctor arrives, I want you to escort him to the cell where the prisoners are. There are two armed guards outside their cell. Make sure one of them accompanies both of you when you enter the prison cell. Doctor Prust is a loyal German and we do not want him injured by scum. Verstehen?"

"Verstehen, Herr Captain. I will carry out your orders."

"Oh, and have the doctor report to me in my office when he finishes with the prisoners."

"Jawohl." He saluted the officer.

"You may leave me while I try and figure a way out of this mess von Eisenburg has gotten us into, corporal." Fuchs returned Schneider's salute before the man left the officer alone in his office.

* * *

 _ **(Current Time):**_

Hotch closed the journal and leaned back in his chair. He mulled over what he had read, and how did what he read fit into what he was finding out about the connection between his grandfather and these men. And although things were becoming somewhat clearer now, he suspected he still had much to figure out.

He rubbed his forehead with the fingers of his right hand, thinking. He looked up when his door opened and Rossi walked in and sat down on the leather sofa against the wall.

"Read anything interesting?" he smirked quirking an eyebrow. He rested both arms on his thighs, and clasped his hands between his knees.

"Well, grandad is still in Gestapo custody along with Newkirk and LeBeau. But, they're being helped by a Gestapo Captain."

"You mean Fuchs?"

"Exactly. Tomorrow I'm going to have Garcia look further into both him and his boss, a Major Wolfgang Hochstetter. I mean, I read early on that Fuchs was friends with Hogan and his men. But now I'm starting to wonder if Hogan's faith in this man was misplaced. Also, I want to know why the major's so fascinated with Colonel Hogan."

* * *

(1)Doctor Michael Prust is my OC and first appeared in my story WHAT IF?

(2)Doctor Moller is pro-Gestapo and a creation of Jennaya and I mention his name with her permission.

(3)Mutter is German for Mother.


	25. Chapter 25

_**A/N: The back story of Captain Fritz Fuchs aka Bluebird of the Gestapo was borrowed from SHADES OF FAMILY and TWO OF A KIND by Jennaya with her permission. Also sorry this chapter is a tad late. Us Criminal Minds lovers just found out yesterday that Thomas Gibson aka 'Hotch' was fired from the show and it's thrown me for a loop.  
**_

 **Chapter 25**

The following day, Hotch arrived early at the BAU, and took a detour to the lair of Penelope Garcia instead of his own office. With the door to her office closed, he suspected she was either inside eating breakfast, or if not, was possibly in JJ's office talking with the media liaison. He'd soon find out. He knocked on the door and waited patiently, and before long heard the click of heels approaching from inside the office. When the door at last opened, he found himself confronted by an annoyed Garcia. She held a partially eaten blueberry muffin in one hand.

"What do you want?" Garcia rudely began before she saw who it was. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened behind her red eyeglass frames. "Uh, sir…I'm so sorry, sir. I had no idea…please don't fire me, sir..." She found herself tripping over her words while apologizing with a mouthful of muffin.

Hotch smiled and held up a hand stopping her. "Nobody's getting fired, Garcia, so relax. If anything, I should apologize to you," he said. "I didn't realize you were eating breakfast." He handed her a folder. "I need you to research two people for me."

Garcia swallowed what was in her mouth. "Of course, sir. What two someones do you wish me to dig up dirt on for you?"

"When you have time, I need you to research a Gestapo major named Wolfgang Hochstetter, and find out everything you can about him. Also, I want you to do the same for a Gestapo captain named Fritz Fuchs aka Bluebird. He was Hochstetter's second-in-command. Bring me the results once you complete your research."

"I'm like a genie in a bottle, sir. Your wish is my command."

"Thanks," he said with a smile showing the dimples Garcia loved so much.

* * *

At the end of the work day, Garcia made her way to Hotch's office mindful the others in her team were watching her. She was also aware the others were watching her with interest as they also had in an investment in whatever she found.

She paused outside her boss's door, and found Hotch's door was closed, and the blinds inside the windows facing the bullpen were closed also. She knocked and waited for a response from her boss.

"Come in," he announced looking up from the file in front of him. His door opened, and he spotted the tech analyst peek her head inside his office. A grin appeared on his face.

"Are you busy, my liege? Cause if you are I can come back later and…"

Hotch waved his hand. "I always have time for you, Garcia. Come in and shut the door."

"Yes, sir."

The blonde entered and shut the door. She sat down in one of the two chairs facing her boss's desk. Studying the older man's face, she bit her lower lip and gripped the folder in her hands tighter. "I have what you wanted, sir. And before you say anything, I did my research during a break from my regular work."

"I trust you, Garcia."

Hotch leaned back in his plush chair resting both arms on the armrests of his chair. He opened his mouth about to say something when there was another knock on his door causing him to look up instead. "Come in, Dave."

The door opened and Garcia looked over her shoulder, seeing a smug-looking Dave Rossi followed by JJ, Emily, Morgan and Reid behind him, calmly walk in Hotch's office. Reid, being the last to enter, closed the door behind him. Rossi looked directly at his best friend. "We saw Penelope come to your office and figured we should save you the trouble of having to ask us to join you in the conference room."

Garcia looked between Hotch and Rossi. Hotch exhaled through his nose and glared at the older man.

"How can you be so sure I even want any of you here to begin with?" he growled. He wasn't angry at any of the others, but sometimes Dave Rossi irritated him with being able to read him like a book.

Rossi smirked. "Because I can see right through you, my friend." He sat down on the leather sofa and leaned forward with arms on his thighs, and clasped hands dangling between his knees. Morgan stood in front of the closed door with arms crossed in front of him. JJ sat in the other chair in front of Hotch's desk and beside Garcia. Prentiss and Reid sat on opposite sides of Rossi on the couch. Rossi arched his eyebrows at Garcia.

"You can begin, Kitten. And if us being here bothers you, just pretend we're not here if it'll help."

The tech analyst glanced back at Hotch who waved his hand indicating for her to go ahead with her report.

"I did find quite a lot on Major Wolfgang Hochstetter." She opened her folder and removed several sheets of printed pages. "Okay, Hochstetter was born in Aurich, Germany on December 1, 1900. In 1931 he joined the Nazi Party, first becoming a member of the SS, working as a Special SS investigator out of Berlin. Later he joined the Gestapo, eventually reaching the rank of major. He was assigned to the Hammelburg office of the Gestapo replacing the original commander there who had been killed in an Allied bombing raid."

"Huh…" Morgan commented with a slight nod of his head. "Sounds like a real ambitious guy."

Garcia looked up from her reading. "I have more on him if you want to know, Hotch."

"Please continue," the Unit Chief said.

"Yes, sir. In 1943, Hochstetter became a thorn in Hogan's side at that time, and throughout most of 1944. Oh….and he also had become trained as a cryptologist, whatever that is, and rapidly became the top man in his unit."

"A cryptologist is someone who is skilled at deciphering codes and puzzles and at creating them to protect private information," Reid interjected.

"Oh…okay."

Reid noticed the expression on Hotch's face and swallowed the lump in his throat. He understood Hotch wasn't angry with him, but didn't appreciate him interrupting Garcia's report. The genius looked at the tech analyst apologetically.

"Sorry, Garcia," he stammered.

"That's okay, my baby genius. Anyway, as I was explaining, by the time Hochstetter made chief of the Gestapo in his section of Bavaria which includes Hammelburg and Stalag 13, he had received many awards. The Iron Cross first class, the War Merit Cross first class, and the Wounded Badge in 1939, because of injuries received from his involvement in the Invasion of Poland. He also received the Golden Party Badge, and the SA Sport Badge." (1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

Morgan growled.

Garcia shot the man a glance before she continued. "As the head of the local Gestapo, my sweet, he became the most feared man in his part of Germany. But he was highly suspicious about all the sabotage activity that kept occurring around the camp."

"Wait a minute," JJ leaned forward. "I can understand being suspicious about the increased sabotage. But what made him zero in on this Colonel Hogan? He was a prisoner."

"I wondered that, too," said Morgan studying Garcia. "Exactly what made Hochstetter so suspicious?" he added.

"Apparently the increased sabotage activity happened in an area surrounding Stalag 13. In other words, the camp was centered in the middle of where the sabotage took place."

Rossi smirked and glanced at the bald agent. "Think of Hogan and his men as UnSubs hunting in their comfort zone with Stalag 13 as their base, and Hochstetter as a profiler. Only difference is he can't find the proof he needs no matter what to prove his case."

The others grinned because it was a lot like what they did as profilers.

Prentiss smirked. "Sounds like Hogan managed to even outwit this Major Hochstetter and protect his underground operation."

"I agree," Hotch concurred. "Also, from what I read so far, Hogan sounds like quite the conman."

Garcia chuckled. "Of course I don't know that much about him except from what I've found and what you've told us. But it sounds like this Colonel Hogan could sell ice to Eskimos if I may be so bold."

Hotch grinned. "You may be so bold, Garcia," he added.

"What happened to the major?" Rossi asked. "It sounds like he never discovered Hogan's operation."

"No, sir, he didn't. In fact, the last I found on him, his superiors became ticked off with his constant claims that a prisoner was responsible for all the sabotage in the area. Especially since he never proved any of his claims. So, near the end of 1944, he was arrested and taken back to his headquarters in Berlin and never heard from again. And as I said, there was nothing on him anywhere after that."

Morgan chuckled. "Sounds like the major ruffled his superiors' feathers one too many times. I mean, who's gonna believe a prisoner-of-war can come-and-go freely from a prison camp, and commit sabotage."

"I agree," said Hotch. "My guess? If the major wasn't shot, he might have ended up at the Russian Front. From what I understand from history, people usually were seldom heard from again once they were sent there."

"Pardon my saying so, sir, but if that's what happened to him, I can't think of anybody who deserved it more. Especially after the things I found on him."

"Since there's nothing else on him," JJ said with a shake of her head. "Can you tell us what you found on Captain Fuchs?"

"There's not much on Fuchs at all, but I can give you what little I found."

"Go ahead," Hotch urged her.

Garcia put the papers she had back in her file, and removed another set of papers.

"To start with, I couldn't find many records on the good captain, especially before he joined the Hammelburg Gestapo. He married a woman named Lilly, last name unknown, and had a son named David. And search as I did, I failed even to find a marriage license for them anywhere. I'm guessing with all the bombing raids; a lot of documents were either lost or destroyed because the Germans were known for keeping excellent records. I'm not even sure Fritz Fuchs was his real name. In fact, it's as if Fritz and Lilly Fuchs didn't exist before he joined the Gestapo in Berlin in 1937."

"Anything else about them?" asked Emily.

"Not really. As I said earlier, a lot of German records were destroyed by bombing attacks." She glanced up at the Unit Chief. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't be," added Hotch. "You can't reconstruct records you can't find."

"True."

"When did Fuchs join the Gestapo in Hammelburg, Garcia?" asked Hotch.

"Let's see. Uhhhhh….he joined the Gestapo in Berlin in the spring of 1937 as a lieutenant, investigating sabotage there. He was then promoted to the rank of captain and transferred to Gestapo Headquarters in Weimar Germany in February 1942 where he stayed for one year. While there, a Colonel Von de Berg tried to lure him to work with him in a concentration camp of the same name, and promised a promotion to major. Fuchs refused to go there. Why I have no idea but he did, and instead phoned Major Hochstetter in Hammelburg. He wanted to know if the major was still interested in him. Apparently they had worked together a while ago on a sabotage investigation, and the major was extremely impressed with Fuchs. One thing led to another, and Fuchs transferred to Hammelburg Gestapo and became the major's new second-in-command. He replaced the major's other second-in-command who got a promotion and transferred to another unit in the Gestapo."

Emily glanced around the room at the others. "Can't say I blame him. Not everybody can work in a concentration camp considering what they were used for."

There was silence from the others for several minutes.

Rossi stroked his goatee as a thought occurred to him. "Penelope, whatever happened to Fuchs and his family? Did they survive the war?"

"That's where things get a bit murky, sir. I only found death certificates on him, Lilly, and David. They were all killed during an Allied bombing raid." Garcia handed each a copy of the death certificates for them to review which they did. With the death certificates for Fuchs and his son I found nothing strange."

"Maybe not. But I'm finding this strange," Rossi commented with knitted eyebrows.

"What is it?" asked Hotch as his eyes continued scanning the documents.

Rossi was about to explain himself, but Reid beat him to it.

"There's no mention of Lilly's maiden name on her death certificate," the genius remarked.

Garcia was still confused. "What's so strange about that?" she asked.

"With a married woman, Penelope…" Rossi continued. "Her maiden name is always listed between her first and last name. There's no maiden name like the kid said."

"So what does that mean?" asked Prentiss looking at her friends, puzzled.

"That means her maiden name was left off her death certificate possibly on purpose," JJ thought she might have an explanation as to why the omission.

"So why is her maiden name being left off her death certificate important?" asked Morgan.

Reid again spoke up before JJ could.

"I believe it was left off on purpose because she was Jewish, and it had to be kept a secret. It might also explain why their marriage certificate couldn't be found. If anybody saw it, they would know she was Jewish. And the fact that her maiden name was omitted from her death certificate only confirms both theories."

"I don't understand," Garcia said. "Why would that…" she suddenly gasped with wide eyes. _"That's horrible!"_ finally realizing the answer.

"The kid might be on to something," Rossi further explained. "If found out a German much less a Gestapo officer, had married a Jew considering the climate back then, Fuchs would have been killed at once. And if Lilly and their son weren't killed, they would have ended up in a concentration camp."

"I agree with Dave," Hotch said grimly. "Hitler hated the Jews and wanted them permanently eradicated from society."

"But…but, sir…."stammered the tech analyst with tears forming in her eyes. "How can someone wipe out an entire race of people?"

"Easy, Baby Girl," Morgan explained sadly. "Hitler blamed the Jews for everything and considered them less than human, and believed they should be eliminated from society. He did the same with other people he deemed unworthy of life."

Garcia slid a hand under her eyeglasses to stop a tear from falling from one eye. "That is so wrong."

"You'll find no argument here," Prentiss agreed chewing her lower lip.

"So Fuchs married a Jewish woman and did all he could to keep it secret. Someone took a big risk marrying them. If anybody discovered the truth, they would all be put to death," Rossi said. "And knowing that makes me question these death certificates and their validity."

"You think they might be false?" asked Hotch arching an eyebrow.

"It's possible. It might have been the only way he could get his family out of Germany after the war." He looked at the tech analyst. "Penelope, did you find anything else on Fuchs and his family?"

"No sir. They disappeared beneath the radar after I found the death certificates."

"Makes sense," explained Reid. "Fuchs obviously went to great lengths to keep his secret. Makes me wonder if Hogan even knew."

"Possibly, kid," Morgan said. "But there's no way we'll ever know."

Prentiss sighed. "Garcia, did you find anything as to how and when Hogan and Fuchs first met?"

"In fact I did find something. He'd been working in Hammelburg Gestapo for about four months learning about the underground and the sabotage going on there before he drove out to Stalag 13 with Hochstetter. He convinced Klink and the major to let him question Hogan about the increase in sabotage activity."

"And…?"

"Once they arrived in the camp, he ordered Klink to have Hogan brought to the cooler. I suspect that's when he introduced himself as Bluebird, and a member of the underground wanting to help the Allies win the war."

"And the major let the captain interrogate the senior POW?" asked Morgan with arched eyebrows.

"Apparently the major felt Fuchs, whom Hogan had never met, would be more effective in getting information from him. Also, Fuchs terrified everybody who met him and found him scarier than Hochstetter. So of course the major jumped at the opportunity figuring Fuchs might get a confession from Hogan that he himself couldn't."

Prentiss smiled. "Good thing he didn't know the truth about his second-in-command or he might feel differently."

"Good work, Garcia," Hotch said with a smile.

Garcia returned the Unit Chief's smile. "Thank you, my liege. I aim to please."

* * *

(1)The Iron Cross is a Military Decoration.

(2)The War Merit Cross is a decoration of Nazi Germany during WW2 which could be awarded to military personnel and civilians alike.

(3)The Wound Badge is a military decoration first promulgated by Wilhelm II, German Emperor on March 3, 1918, which was awarded to wounded or frostbitten soldiers.

(4)Golden Party Badge is a special badge of the Nazi Party awarded for being one of the first 100,000 members of the Nazi Party who had uninterrupted service.

(5)The SA Sport Badge is a decoration of Nazi Germany that was issued between 1933 and 1945. Is awarded for physical fitness.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

After a long day at the office, with only breaks and lunchtime spent working on Hotch's case, everybody went home exhausted. But despite his exhaustion, Hotch found himself tossing and turning and unable to sleep. He kept picturing himself in his grandfather's place in a cell in Gestapo Headquarters. When the door to his cell opened, he jumped upright in his bed, breathing hard and noticing it was still nighttime. He decided then and there he wouldn't get anymore sleep this night. So he got out of bed, and walked into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. While waiting for it to be ready, he decided to read more of the journal.

 **(** _ **May, 1944 – Roll Call in the Morning of the Same Day):**_

The prisoners of Barracks two followed Hogan out into the compound. The morning was a bit on the chilly side, but not that uncomfortable. The men formed two rows, and stood at attention in front of a panicky Schultz who kept staring at the American officer the entire time. The officer didn't seem, to him, that concerned by the expression on his face. Then again, Hogan never appeared worried about anything. The obese sergeant began to count each prisoner ending in front of Hogan.

"Colonel Hogan, the Kommandant is never going to believe me when he finds out four prisoners are missing."

The officer sighed. "Well, he won't if you carry on like you are. You need to be more convincing."

"Colonel Hogan, I am not a good liar like you." The minute the words were spoken, Schultz's mouth dropped open in shock. He just realized he had called the man he respected more than he ever did Klink, a liar to his face.

Hogan feigned being hurt by Schultz's words. He hooked his thumbs in the side pockets of his leather jacket and bowed his head.

"You really hurt my feelings with those words." Fact is, it hadn't bothered Hogan one bit.

"I'm sorry I called you a liar." Schultz truly was sorry.

The officer raised his head and looked at the large man realizing he spoke the truth and felt badly for him.

"Have I ever told you that you worry too much?" Hogan suddenly snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. "Maybe you should take a vacation. A trip to the Russian Front will do wonders for you. Make a new man out of you…if you survive, that is," he added with an amused grin and arms wrapped around himself.

"Jolly joker," the guard growled.

" _Schuuuuuultz, repooooorrrttt!"_ bellowed a loud voice approaching from behind the guard. Klink had left his office, and was marching toward the prisoners, his riding crop tucked under one arm. He was not in the mood for any of Hogan's games this morning. And it wouldn't take much to toss the man in the cooler until the end of the war.

"Oh boy," Schultz muttered nervously momentarily closing his eyes.

Hogan shook his head, chuckling. "Relax, will you? Everything's going to be fine. Besides, would I lie to you?"

"Jawohl." This time Schultz didn't realize he had called the American a liar again.

Hogan feigned his feelings being hurt again. "Well…" he huffed.

Schultz suddenly spun around saluting his colonel. "All prisoners present and accounted for, Herr Kommandant." He gulped hoping he sounded convincing.

Klink's eyes narrowed as he glared at his Sergeant-of-the-guard. Something felt off to him, and he would bet his next leave that his Senior POW had something to do with it.

As he stared past his obese sergeant, Klink started silently counting each man himself. As he counted, a frown appeared. When he finished, he stomped his foot and glared at the senior POW officer before he marched directly up to and stood toe-to-toe with him.

"Hogan, four prisoners are missing!"

Hogan's eyes widened and he looked further down each of the two rows.

"Really? Huh. How about that. They were all here earlier. Who's missing, Kommandant?"

Klink balled his fist and shook it in the American's face. Hogan didn't bat an eye, and maintained his cool exterior.

"You know very well who's missing! Now where are Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau, and Sergeants Kinchloe and Hotchner?"

"Oh those four. For a moment I was afraid there were four others missing."

Klink stomped his foot with frustration. "Don't toy with me, Hogan! I am in no mood for your games! Now where are they?!"

"Hold onto your swastika, Colonel. They're all inside the barracks and ill. Wilson is with them."

Klink stared at his guard harshly.

"Did you know about this, Schultz?"

The large man opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. Klink rolled his eyes skyward for a moment, and then eyed his guard.

"Why am I asking you? The only thing you'd see missing is food!" He turned back to Hogan again. "Sick, eh? I'll just bet they are! They've escaped, and you're covering for them!" He stormed toward the barracks, and grabbed the doorknob. "We'll see just how sick they are!" He started to turn the doorknob and open the door.

Hogan hurried toward the Kommandant with the other prisoners behind him.

"Kommandant, I don't think you want to go in there, sir," he said nervously.

"Of course you don't because I'll find them gone!" Klink smirked. "When are you and your men going to realize you can't fool me, Hogan? I'm onto you and can read you like a book!"

Hogan feigned defeat. "I can't get anything past you, sir. Your genius at being able to see right through me is uncanny. But I'm not lying. I'm trying to warn you, sir." With a sigh, he shrugged his shoulders. "But if you want to expose yourself to influenza, be my guest."

Klink's hand released the doorknob as if it was red hot, and looked at his guard again.

"Schultz, I want you to check on the prisoners and make sure they're all present."

Schultz's eyes widened in horror and jabbed a pudgy finger into his own chest.

"M…m…me, Herr Kommandant?" he stammered.

"Yes, you! You're not scared are you, Schultz?"

"N…n…no, Herr Kommandant." He understood there was no influenza, but still he was afraid for some strange reason. What if he was wrong?

"Then go do your job!"

"Ja…ja…Jawohl…" Schultz slowly waddled toward the barracks and hesitantly grabbed the doorknob. He looked at Hogan who had a blank expression on his face giving nothing away.

"Don't look at me, Schultz. I didn't order you to confront those germs," he said.

"Besides, what are you worryin' about, big fella," said Carter with a childish grin. "Wilson is in there anyway."

"That's riiiiiggggghhhht…" Schultz said with a big smile. He turned toward Klink. "Herr Kommandant, Sergeant Wilson is in the barracks checking on the prisoners. Why not wait until he comes outside and get his report?"

Klink stomped his foot angrily. "Dummkopf! Now, you will either go do your duty, or I'll have you march a post outside the fence until the end of the war… _as a private!"_

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." The large man turned the knob and opened the door slowly. He hesitantly entered the barracks and closed the door behind him.

He stood over Carter's bunk where Kinch was resting, Wilson looked up when he realized someone had entered.

"Something I can do for you, Schultz?" he asked. "You really shouldn't be in here. There's influenza in here, and you know how highly contagious that is."

"I…I know. But Kommandant Klink wants to know if Sergeants Kinch and Hotchner, and Corporals Newkirk and LeBeau are really here or if they have escaped."

Wilson shook his head understanding Klink could sometimes be a pest, and wondered how his commanding officer tolerated putting up with the German officer.

"C'mon, Schultz…."

"Sergeant Wilson, please…"

Wilson sighed. "I can tell you they're here but it wouldn't be true." He loved teasing the man. He felt sorry for the large man and smiled. "Think positive, Schultz. Kinch is here. And the Colonel promised LeBeau, Newkirk, and Hotchner would be back in a few days, didn't he?"

"Ja."

"The colonel has never broken a promise yet to you. If he says they'll be back in a few days then they'll be back. You have his word."

"They'll be back in a few days," Schultz repeatedly told himself as he turned around and left the barracks. He found the others and Klink waiting.

"Well…" said Klink with a smug expression on his face. "They're gone aren't they?"

"Herr Kommandant, I report that the four prisoners are inside the barracks just as Colonel Hogan said. And Sergeant Wilson is inside as well examining them."

Klink's mouth formed a perfect 'O' proving he was surprised. He had convinced himself the four men had escaped, and he had finally caught Hogan in a lie. He looked at the American officer, and noticed him staring at him with arms wrapped around himself with an arched eyebrow.

"Satisfied, Kommandant?"

"I'm sorry, Hogan. But can you blame me for being suspicious?"

"I accept your apology."

"My apology?" Klink gasped. "Oh never mind. Has Sergeant Wilson told you how long it will be for the men to recover completely?"

Hogan shrugged noncommittally. "Not really, sir. They are pretty sick men. Why?"

Klink became uncomfortable and didn't hide it at all.

"Kommandant, what's going on?" asked the American officer. Klink's expression bothered Hogan, and the American didn't like that feeling.

"I need those men to get well by the end of this week. General Burkhalter phoned this morning and said he was coming next week to inspect the camp. I need LeBeau to cook one or two fabulous meals for him, and I need Kinchloe, Newkirk, Hotchner, and Carter to act as waiters."

Hogan felt a coldness run through him at this news. He had enough problems without Burkhalter causing more.

"I'm sure the guys will be much better by then, sir," the officer reported with a smile.

"Excellent. Schultz, dismiss your men!" Klink turned abruptly and marched away, not waiting for the guard to return his salute.

"Prisoners, dismissed!" Schultz glanced at Hogan briefly before he turned and walked away.

Hogan let out a deep breath as he turned toward the barracks, shaking his head grimly. The other prisoners gathered around him.

"Sir?" asked Carter fearfully. "What do we do now? We have no idea how they are or if we can get them back before Burkhalter shows up here."

Hogan ran both hands down his face. He did not need Carter pointing out the obvious.

"They're going to be fine, Carter, and we're going to get them back in plenty of time…" he said looking at the younger sergeant. "…I hope," he added quietly enough so nobody would hear, and hoping it wasn't a lie.

 _ **(Current Time)**_

After arriving at the BAU, instead of working, Hotch sat behind his desk and massaged his temples with his fingertips, elbows on the desk. Rossi still sat on the couch, but was now leaning backward with his arms stretched out on the top of the back of the couch, palms downward.

"Headache?" he asked the younger man.

"No. I'm just tired," Hotch lied.

"That's because since you began reading that journal, you haven't gotten much sleep." Rossi knew his friend was lying but decided he wouldn't press him.

"I'll be all right…" Hotch replied clasping his hands together on top of his desk. He looked at his friend and sighed. "I'm still finding it difficult to believe an underground operation was taking place beneath a prison camp without the Germans knowing about it."

"I find it difficult to believe as well," Rossi agreed. "But it obviously happened from what we know from Garcia's research and the journal. And Hogan and his men came and went freely and had many tunnels underground. Also, they manipulated the Kommandant and the guards easily. Let's face it, I have a sneaky suspicion we may be on the verge of finding out why everything about the men at Stalag 13 is classified."

* * *

During their lunchtime, Garcia and Morgan sat side-by-side in front of her main computer screen. With Morgan observing over her shoulder, the tech analyst typed away on her keyboard.

" _Dammit!"_ she muttered in a low voice. Morgan stared at her with wide eyes. He had never heard her swear, and it stunned him. For her to swear meant things must be really frustrating her.

"Garcia, chill." he muttered. "You're freakin' me out."

"I'm freaking _you_ out!?" she responded staring back at him. "In case you haven't noticed, my sweet, I have a right to be freaked out. I want to find answers for Hotch, but…hello…what do we have here?" she added when something popped up on her main screen which caught her eye.

"What is it? What d'ya see?"

"Derek, I need you to contact Hotch and have him come to my lair. Right now. I think I might have just found the answer to a mystery for him."

Hearing the urgency in her voice, Morgan pulled out his cell and placed a call to their Unit Chief.

* * *

The door to Garcia's office opened, and a determined Aaron Hotchner accompanied by Dave Rossi, strode inside with Rossi closing the door. The two men stood behind the blonde, staring at the screen over her opposite shoulder.

"What have you got, Garcia?" asked Hotch with narrowed eyes.

"A real biggie, sir. Feast your eyes and prepare to be amazed." The tech analyst moved a bit sideways so Hotch and Rossi could see unobstructed.

"Is that a newspaper article?" asked Rossi, not getting it right away.

"Give that man a cigar. It's an article written by Walter Hobson who was a correspondent on-board a plane covering the war up close and personal." (1)

The door opened again, and Reid, Prentiss, and JJ entered and approached the others.

"We got here as soon as we could," said Reid. "What'd Garcia find?"

"A newspaper article written by Walter Hobson," Rossi explained.

"Who's Walter Hobson?" asked JJ as she, Emily, and Reid leaned over Garcia from behind and to get a good look at the screen.

"He's a correspondent who flew with a bomber crew covering the war," Reid explained. "I read about him in a book he wrote after the war. This article was originally printed in an American newspaper. It was then sent to Spain, then Portugal. From there it was forwarded to Switzerland, and finally to Germany by a German spy in the United States."(2)

"Wonderful," Prentiss said sarcastically. "If the Gestapo saw that article that must've made Hogan's life happy."

"It probably did, Princess," Morgan replied. "Since it was sent to Germany by a spy in the US, I bet it was forwarded directly to Major Hochstetter who was already suspicious about Hogan. That article must've been like gettin' a Christmas gift. I bet he was overjoyed."

"Get a load of this…" Rossi said as he began to read the article out loud. "…For security reasons I cannot tell you the exact location. The request was no names please. But somewhere in Germany, an American officer is operating a sabotage and rescue unit from of all places, a German POW camp. These men saved my life. To me they are among the unsung heroes of this war." (3)

Hotch shook his head. "Damn stupid man," he growled. "He did everything except give their names. He's lucky he didn't get them all killed with his carelessness."

"Wait a minute," Reid began. "Look how he begins the article. 'For security reasons I cannot tell you the exact location.' "

"I don't understand," said Penelope looking over her shoulder at Reid.

"He's telling us that he was saved by Hogan and his men after his plane was shot down by the Germans."

"How can you tell?"

"He was asked that no names be given.' That means he had to have made contact with Hogan and his men. I'm willing to bet he intended to do a story on their operating an underground unit right under the German's feet. My theory is that Hogan refused because revealing that would have exposed them as spies, and gotten them all killed."

"That's not all, Kitten," Rossi continued. "Hogan refused to let Hobson publish a story about his underground activity. But despite Hogan's refusal, Hobson did it anyway except he didn't use any names believing it was safer for them."

"But he didn't consider that what he wrote would further arouse the suspicion of those who already suspected Hogan of being involved in the underground," said Hotch grimly.

"Like Hochstetter?"

"Like Hochstetter," added JJ.

* * *

(1)The episode with Walter Hobson is NO NAMES PLEASE, Season 4.

(2)Walter Hobson, according to the episode, never wrote a book. It was something I made up for purposes of this story.

(3)The article read aloud by Rossi, was quoted directly from the episode word-by-word.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

 _ **(Current Time):**_

The day ended without any further problems, and everybody except Hotch, Rossi, and Garcia able to leave for home. Hotch, usually working until midnight on files couldn't this time as his fingers cramped from signing endless files in his in-box. He put down his pen, cracked his knuckles, and opened his middle desk-drawer. He began to remove the journal when his office phone rang. With a growl, he slid the drawer shut, grabbed the receiver, and pressed it to his ear.

"Hotchner…" He hoped he didn't sound annoyed to whoever had called him.

The frown on his face turned into a slow grin. "What are you still doing here at this hour, Garcia?" he asked. He listened carefully as the tech analyst apologized repeatedly. "All right…stop right there. When I asked you to do me that favor, I didn't intend for you to stay late to do it." His grin grew wider as he listened. "That's good work, Penelope. Thank you. Now please go home and get some rest. And that's an order." He chuckled. "I will. Goodnight." He hung up the receiver and opened his middle desk drawer again, preparing to remove the journal. He swore softly when there was a knock at his door. With a sigh, Hotch closed the drawer again and looked up, frustrated.

"Come in," he said not caring if he sounded annoyed this time.

The door opened and Rossi walked in, closed the door, and plopped down in one of the chairs facing Hotch's desk. He crossed his legs and clasped his hands together laying them in his lap.

Hotch smirked. "If you're not here to discuss a case file, then I assume you're here to talk to me about what was discussed earlier," he said.

Rossi grinned. "I am."

Hotch's eyes twinkled as he waited for his best friend to elaborate.

"I was looking through the information Garcia gave us at the meeting, and something struck me as funny," the older man began.

"I know what you're going to say, Dave. You were going to tell me you had a problem with Major Hochstetter being arrested at Stalag 13, taken back to Berlin, and disappearing."

Rossi smiled. "Exactly. I mean, his superiors were well aware of his obsession with Colonel Hogan and it didn't seem to bother them in the past, so why did it this time? What changed? I suspect something big had to have happened for them to recall him like that." He studied Hotch's face as he spoke, and when he spotted the devious grin on the younger man's face, he had his answer. "You already know the answer, don't you, you little weasel?" he teased.

Hotch chuckled. "I spoke with Garcia a few minutes before you came to my office, and she gave me the answer we both were seeking."

He leaned back in his chair and tapped his pyramiding fingertips together, elbows on the armrests of his chair. He looked at Rossi with a twinkle in his dark eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Well, are you gonna keep it to yourself or what? I'm not getting any younger here."

"Impatient aren't we," Hotch chuckled. He heard Rossi growl. "Fine. This is what Garcia found. Hochstetter had arrested four male leaders of the underground, and brought them to Stalag 13 as prisoners. Klink was to house them there until they were picked up by someone from Berlin. Speculation was that Hochstetter might even get an award for capturing these four as they were big men in the underground." (1)

"That should have made ole Wolfie's day."

"You would think so, wouldn't you? But that's not how it turned out in the end. Seems Hochstetter ended up releasing those same four men before someone from Berlin arrived."

" _What!"_ Rossi gasped bolting upright in his chair, gripping the armrests so tightly his knuckles turned white. "How the _hell_ did that happen?"

"You're not going to believe this because I didn't when Garcia told me. But she swears it's true. Remember she told us Hochstetter disappeared in late 1944 never to be seen again?"

"Yeah."

"Well, this incident took place in late November, 1944. The underground leaders he arrested were, according to the records, Albins from Belgium, Widen from Austria, Calarusso from Italy, and Bilet from France. And it was while they were housed at Stalag 13, a newspaper was published with the headline stating that the war had ended."

Rossi chuckled and rubbed his forehead. "I have a funny feeling we know who was responsible for that, my friend."

"So do I," Hotch agreed. "But I haven't told you the rest of it."

"There's more?"

"Much more. Seems that a local radio station in Germany interrupted their regularly scheduled broadcasting, and also announced that the war had ended. And that Colonel Klink accepted that announcement as the true, but not so much Major Hochstetter. So he phoned his superior in Berlin, a Colonel Baumburg, to verify the rumor. Oddly enough, Baumburg assured him the rumor was true. So Hochstetter decided, with a bit of urging by Hogan I suspect, that he should release his prisoners. And would you believe it, Hochstetter did exactly that. He released his prisoners."

Rossi shook his head trying not to burst out laughing. "We figured Hogan was a conman in his own right, but this goes far beyond that. I mean, conning the Gestapo, the Kommandant, and guards of Stalag 13 that the war had ended? Hell, I bet he even had someone pretend to be this Colonel Baumburg to convince Hochstetter it was true."

"I don't doubt it."

"So what happened next?"

"You're going to love this part, Dave. Seems that for some unexplained reason, Hochstetter lent his car to the underground prisoners so they could leave Stalag 13 rather than walk. But a short time later, an Inspector General Busse arrived from Berlin to pick up the prisoners. Imagine his shock when he found out they had been released by the major because he believed the war had ended. Needless to say, Klink and Hochstetter were equally stunned when Busse told them the war was not over and the Allies had just bombed Berlin as proof."

Rossi shook his head and snorted. He had laughed so hard moisture had formed in his eyes. "I can just imagine Hochstetter's reaction finding out he had been duped into releasing his prisoners. And to top it off, had loaned them his car in which to get away. I have a strong feeling that incident is why Hochstetter was arrested and taken to Berlin never to be seen or heard from again."

"I agree. To obsess over a POW, and claim he can walk in-and-out of a prison camp to commit sabotage is one thing. But being so easily conned into believing that the war was over, and releasing important underground leaders must've been the final straw to his superiors."

"Just out of curiosity, did Klink get arrested as well?" asked Rossi. "I mean all this took place in his prison camp."

"Oddly no. All of Klink's prisoners oddly enough were still in Stalag 13 even with all the havoc taking place. There had been no escapes. General Busse had no choice but to excuse Klink of any wrongdoing," replied the Unit Chief.

"How much do you want to bet that Hogan made certain Klink's prisoners remained in camp so the Kommandant wouldn't get in trouble? Only Hochstetter."

"That's what I suspect as well."

"Well…" Rossi said as he stretched his arms while seated. "…This proves two things."

Hotch nodded. "I agree. One, it proves beyond a doubt that Hogan had the capabilities to not only pull off a scam like this. And two…it shows what happened to Hochstetter which caused him to disappear in late 1944."

Rossi nodded. "It also proves a third thing as well."

"What's that?"

"It proves that Hogan probably looks after Klink and Schultz so they would stay in charge of Stalag 13," he stated.

Hotch saw the older man open his mouth, and held up a hand stopping him. "That tells me Klink and these particular guards, especially Schultz, are a necessity. A means to an end, so to speak. I also believe he would do whatever he had to do to keep them out of harm's way and out of trouble. Face it, Dave, without Klink and these guards, Hogan's operation might have closed down for good."

Rossi pursed his lips and nodded. "I think you might be right." He checked his watch and noticed the time. "I didn't realize it was this late. I'd better get home." He rose from the chair. "You ready to leave yourself? I can give you a lift home and then to work in the morning. This way you can leave your car here, and drive it home tomorrow after work."

"Thanks, Dave, but I have a lot of work that I need to get done."

"Okay. I know when I'm being rejected. Just try and not stay too late, Aaron."

"I promise this time I won't. You have my word." Hotch said with a smile.

"Uhhhh-huh," was all Rossi said before turning away and walking out of the office.

Hoping Garcia and Rossi were now gone and he wouldn't be interrupted again, Hotch waited about five minutes to be sure. He then slid open his middle desk drawer and removed the journal. He flipped through it, and quickly found the page he had been reading from earlier.

* * *

 _ **(May, 1944 – Later in the S**_ **ame Day):**

Fuchs found himself staring at the closed door of his office trying to relax just for one minute. This was before he had to try and hopefully stop his boss from returning to Hammelburg. Despite working for the Allies, he considered Hochstetter a close friend; but so was Hogan. And as much of a friend as the Gestapo major was, Fuchs would still lay down his life willingly to help Hogan save his men.

With a weary sigh, the officer picked up the receiver of his phone and put it to his ear. He ordered his secretary to put him through to the Ticketmaster of the Munich train station as a priority call. A few seconds passed before someone answered the phone on the other end.

"Guten Morgen. Wagner Hoffman, Ticketmaster speaking."

"Guten Morgen, Herr Hoffman. This is Captain Fuchs of the Hammelburg Gestapo."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain. How may I be of service to the illustrious Gestapo today?"

"A Major Hochstetter of the Hammelburg Gestapo is en-route to Munich from Bamberg this morning. He will be transferring from Munich to Stuttgart upon arrival in Munich. It is urgent that you relay a message to him from me."

"One moment, Herr Captain." The Ticketmaster grabbed a pen and a pad. "What is the message?"

"Urgent. Error in message told you earlier this morning. Please phone me as soon as you receive this message. Signed Captain Fuchs."

"I will make sure he gets your message, Herr Captain."

Fuchs smiled. Maybe he could stop Hochstetter from even returning to Hammelburg and instead, return to Bamberg completely.

"Danke, Herr Hoffman."

"Will there be anything else, Herr Captain?"

"Nein. Just make sure he receives this message when he arrives there. Auf Wiedershen." Fuchs added breathing a little easier.

"Auf Wiedershen, Herr Captain." Hoffman hung up the receiver on his end.

With a sigh, Fuchs hung up his phone and turned around in his chair facing his radio. Now to tackle another problem. He checked his watch noticing the time. Realizing morning roll call was over, somebody would be monitoring the radio in Stalag 13. He switched the frequency to a different one, grabbed the microphone sitting on top of his radio, and made contact.

This time, he was fortunate and didn't have to wait more than a minute for Olsen to respond.

In as few words as possible, Fuchs requested a meeting with Hogan right away, although he couldn't be more precise as to the time.

Olsen acknowledged the message and promised to pass it on to the colonel. The German then ended his message and switched his frequency back to the normal one, and sat the microphone back on top of the radio. Then he fell back in his chair and let out the deep breath he had been holding.

At last he could breathe; at least for the moment. But he knew he wouldn't be able to completely relax until he and Hogan had come up with a plan to save his men, and end this entire mess. And finally, that von Eisenburg and his two accomplices were dealt with permanently. Only then would he relax and be able to enjoy it.

When there was a knock on his door, Fuchs looked over from his position at his desk.

"Who is it?" he asked.

The door cracked open, and Corporal Schneider poked his head warily inside to judge for himself whether to enter. He understood the captain was furious because of the humiliation and embarrassment von Eisenburg had brought to the Gestapo. When he saw Fuchs staring in his direction, he decided it was safer for him to stay where he stood in the doorway.

"Was ist los, corporal?" Fuchs asked.

"Sorry to intrude, Herr Captain. But I thought you'd want to know Doctor Prust just arrived. I am about to take him to where the prisoners are. I will also make sure he reports to you after he's finished with his examinations."

"Danke, corporal."

Schneider chewed on his lower lip. "Sir, is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?" He felt badly for the young officer having to deal with this mess. Hopefully he could derail the explosion the major was certain to have when he arrived and found out the truth.

"Nein, corporal. You've done everything I have asked of you. I will handle this situation on my own. Danke."

A slim smile appeared on his face as Schneider withdrew his head and closed the door. With the amount of secrets involved in this situation, Fuchs understood he could ill afford for anybody except certain others to help him.

* * *

(1)This episode was WAR TAKES A HOLIDAY, Season 3.


	28. Chapter 28

_**A/N: Doctor Michael Prust is my own original character, and first appeared in my story WHAT IF?**_

 **Chapter 28**

 _ **(Continuation):**_

Hogan and his men were in the barracks, and looked up when the bunk in the corner rose and Olsen's head appeared. The Colonel, Carter, and Baker, were sitting around the table drinking coffee. Wilson had just left after checking on Kinch and informed the others he was healing nicely. And though he was still unconscious, not to worry.

"Message from Bluebird, Colonel," Olsen said handing Hogan the folded paper. "He says it's urgent."

"What is it?" Hogan asked as he unfolded the paper, and scanned its contents as the others waited patiently.

"Did he say how Newkirk, LeBeau and Hotchner are?" asked Carter staring at Olsen.

"No. Sorry," Olsen replied apologetically. "But the impression I got is that they're alive. I hope that helps a bit."

"A little," Carter replied sorrowfully. "Thanks." He had been hoping for more information, but he supposed this would have to do. After all, he supposed it was better than hearing nothing.

"What's the message say, sir?" asked Baker, studying Hogan.

"Bluebird requests an urgent meeting but can't give an exact time. He's waiting for Doctor Prust to examine the guys, and for news on Hochstetter before he meets with us to formulate a plan to rescue the guys. He also wants to discuss what happened last night."

"I sensed that's probably why he couldn't give an exact time to meet," Olsen explained. "But I have to agree. Sounds like the guys are all right. But we'll just have to wait until we can talk with him later."

"But sir…" Carter stammered facing the colonel. "If Bluebird needs a doctor to check the guys out, could that mean they're hurt? Dying even?" His face showed his fear.

"Not necessarily," the Colonel explained gently. He understood everybody was scared not knowing if their missing men were hurt or slowly being tortured to death. Even he was scared although he did his best not to show it, as he had to stay strong for his men; so he suffered in silence. "It's true they might be injured. But I believe Fritz is doing what he can to get them checked out and guarantee they're okay. Believing anything else right now will not do anything except to drive yourself crazy. Let's wait until we hear from him first."

"Yes, sir," Carter, Baker and Olsen said at the same time, knowing their commanding officer was right.

"Colonel, what's Bluebird mean by waiting for info on Hochstetter?" asked Olsen.

"I have no idea," Hogan replied. "That's something else we'll have to wait to find out when he meets with us."

* * *

Michael Prust stood just behind Corporal Schneider as they waited for one of the guards to unlock and pull open the heavy iron door. He heard the sound of the door being unlocked, and feared for the condition of the prisoners he would find on the opposite side of the door. While Corporal Schneider had escorted him to the cell area, he had told the doctor von Eisenberg had injured the men he was to treat. That information did not bode well for those men at all.

The doctor had treated many prisoners in the past who had been injured by the Gestapo, and sometimes the injuries they had suffered had been horrific to say the least. But those tortured by von Eisenberg, and the extensive damage the man could inflict on a person alone, was the worst he had ever seen. And he had seen a lot over the years. In several instances, the injuries suffered had lasting effects; and in two cases, people had died in horrible pain. He shuddered what the German might have done to Hogan's men.

Prust had always found the prison cells depressing, and the condition of the prisoners being held even more depressing. As the guard pulled open the door, he stood aside and allowed Schneider and Prust to enter. He followed them inside and stood close enough so his presence would be known, but far enough away so as not to interfere. He understood his job was to protect Prust and Schneider above all else, and not to interfere with the doctor.

Newkirk and LeBeau both glanced upward, recognizing the doctor right away, but kept their faces neutral. The German underground doctor showed no reaction when he saw the prisoners. But he frowned when his eyes fell on Hotchner. The man looked poorly.

"Who's he?" Newkirk asked the guard coldly while glaring at Prust as if he were an enemy.

"Watch your mouth, swine!" the guard hissed gesturing with his weapon. "This is the doctor. Captain Fuchs has ordered him to check you three out and make sure you are all in good condition." He grinned a twisted grin. "We want you healthy enough to execute later." The latter was said with a sneer.

Prust had heard enough and rolled his eyes. Then turning toward the guard, he glared at the man with his angry blue-grey eyes. "Corporal that is enough! I am here to examine these men and treat their injuries; not make sure they are healthy for you to execute as you say. Of course, what the Gestapo does with these men in the end is of no concern of mine." He walked further into the room. "Now if you excuse me, I would like to conduct my examinations of these men without comments being made. And if you cannot stay quiet while I do so, you can leave and wait outside until I finish. I will be fine." He continued glaring at the guard who glared back at the man who dared to speak to the Gestapo with such force. He was incredulous to have been spoken to this way by a civilian. After all, he was Gestapo.

But Prust didn't care and continued glaring at the man. "But if you are going to stay, I suggest you not wave your weapon around the room. You might injure someone."

Schneider bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. He had dealt with Prust many times over the years, he was quite aware the doctor spoke his mind. But he also would accept no gruff from anybody, not even the Gestapo. Schneider glanced at the guard and smiled faintly.

"Let us leave the doctor to examine his patients. We can wait outside until he finishes," he informed the guard. The last thing he wanted was a problem between the two men and Fuchs needing to be informed.

The guard stared at Schneider incredulously. "We should stay with Herr Doctor until he finishes, corporal. These prisoners are dangerous men and cannot be trusted."

Schneider sighed and shook his head. "Do you want to tell your troubles to Captain Fuchs?" he asked seeing the change in the guard's expression. "He ordered that I escort the good doctor to the prisoners' cell, and have a guard go with us. That has been done. So we need not stay and possibly get in the good doctor's way. Come, we will wait outside the cell." He stole a look at Prust. "Let us know when you are finished, and I will show you to the captain's office." Schneider then gently urged the disapproving guard to leave the cell with him. He closed the iron door behind him leaving Prust alone with the prisoners.

When Prust saw Newkirk opening his mouth and about to speak, he put a finger to his lips indicating silence. Newkirk and LeBeau nodded their understanding. Prust then pointed to his ear indicating they were being overheard. Again LeBeau and Newkirk nodded they understood.

"I will examine this man first," Prust said kneeling down next to Hotchner. "He seems to be the most injured among the three of you. I ask the two of you move out of the way so I may work." He sat his bag down on the floor beside him while Newkirk and LeBeau moved out of the way.

"Please help him," LeBeau said begging their friend.

Prust removed a stethoscope from his bag and put the ear pieces in his ears. "This man has been severely beaten," he added. "But I will do what I can for him, young man," he added sounding impartial. He glanced upward for a moment. "You are French are you not?"

"Oui."

There was no response by Prust who only nodded as he listened to Hotchner's heart. LeBeau understood the man was making conversation for the Germans.

"Will our mate be all right, doc?" asked Newkirk.

"You are British, yes?"

"And proud of it, chum," Newkirk replied with a smile.

Again Prust only nodded as he removed the ear pieces from his ears and placed it back into his bag. "His heart is good." After continuing to examine and tend to Hotchner's injuries as much as he was able, the elderly doctor at last exhaled through his mouth. He stared at the others with a faint smile.

"Your friend has a mild concussion. Also, I have wrapped his ribs to keep the two that are fractured in place. Fortunately the fractures were not displaced, and if he keeps still, no further problems should arise from them." They watched Prust then remove a small vial containing clear liquid and a syringe from his bag.

"What's that for, chum?" asked Newkirk as he and the Frenchman watched the doctor fill the syringe.

"This is a sedative that should help your friend sleep for about twelve hours or so. His body needs rest. This will help him get that rest, and will help keep him quiet." Prust then tore away the shoulder of the turtleneck, exposing the upper area of the arm. He proceeded to inject Hotchner with the contents of the syringe. "There," he added. "Your friend should sleep comfortably for awhile. That is the best I can do for him without him being in a hospital."

"What about his eye?"

"There is not much I can do for that here. Your friend may need to see a doctor who specializes in eye care. But right now, we need the swelling to go down before any damage can be assessed. That is the best we can do right now." He smiled. "Now, I must examine the two of you."

* * *

An hour later found Prust and Schneider outside Captain Fuchs' office. Schneider knocked on the closed door, and opened it when permission came from inside the office. He opened the door and poked his head inside to find the captain seated at his desk going over paperwork. Fuchs looked up when the door opened.

"Excuse me, Herr Captain, but Doctor Prust has finished his examinations of the prisoners, and is reporting to you as ordered."

The German straightened up in his chair. "Excellent, corporal. Show him in, bitte." He pushed the paperwork aside and got to his feet.

"Jawohl, Herr Captain." Schneider held the door open and stood aside, allowing the doctor to enter. "Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?"

"Nein. Danke, corporal. You may leave us."

"Jawohl, sir." Schneider saluted Fuchs who returned the salute. The corporal closed the door now leaving the two men alone.

With a smile, Fuchs held out his hand which Prust shook. He sat down in a chair in front of the captain's desk; Fuchs returned to his seat.

"How are you, Fritz?" Prust asked.

"Gut. How are they, Michael?" Fuchs clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. "I am meeting with Papa Bear and need to inform him of the condition of his men."

Prust sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Newkirk and LeBeau are battered, bruised, but otherwise are in good shape. The other one, Hotchner, is not so good. He has two fractured ribs which thankfully are not displaced, and which I wrapped. I cleaned and treated several cuts and bruises, and he has a concussion. But I am most concerned about his eye. It is badly swollen and I cannot tell if it's damaged. He needs to be in a hospital where that eye can be treated and looked after properly."

Fuchs nodded his understanding. The doctor spotted the distressed look on the German's face.

"There is something else troubling you, my friend."

"Jawohl. I fear Hotchner, in his condition, might blurt out something he shouldn't to the wrong people. If that should happen…"

"I think I understand. If he should blurt out the wrong thing to someone, you, your family, Papa Bear, and many in the underground will face a horrible death." He noticed Fuchs nod his head. "I think I may have relieved you of that worry, my friend."

Prust sat his black bag on his lap, then reached inside and removed the same small vial of clear liquid he had used earlier. He also took out a new syringe.

"Hotchner, though he has a concussion, is not in any danger from it, but he does need complete rest. I gave him an injection of this sedative. He should sleep for about twelve hours. It won't hurt him in any way, and it will allow him to rest." He handed Fuchs the vial and the syringe which the captain accepted and put inside his desk drawer.

"Danke," he said with a faint grin. "It's a shame it needs to be handled like this, but I cannot let him blow my cover and endanger Papa Bear and his men, and the underground. From the brief exchange we had earlier, he blames me for his current predicament. I just need him to keep quiet until Colonel Hogan and I can come up with a plan to save him and the others."

"I understand, Fritz. As I said, this sedative will not harm him in any way. The vial I gave you will be enough for three more injections. Whatever you do, you and Robert must do it before you run out of the sedative. Any more than that would be too dangerous."

"I understand, Michael. Danke. Papa Bear and I will do our best to free his men before a final injection is necessary."

Prust smiled as he closed his black bag and got up from his chair as did Fuchs. "I must head back to the hospital now. I will check with you later to see how Hotchner is doing. If a problem arises, be sure to contact me right away and I will come."

The two men shook hands again. Fuchs opened his door and followed Prust out into the hallway. The officer, hands now clasped behind his back, stood quietly and watched the doctor leave Gestapo Headquarters. Once the doctor had left the building, Fuchs approached the information desk. The young sergeant seated behind the desk, looked over as he caught sight of the captain approaching from the corner of his eye.

"Can I help you, Herr Captain?" he asked nervously. The sergeant, Gunter Kohl, was in his early twenties, and recently joined the Hammelburg Gestapo office about one month ago. He was impressed by Captain Fuchs, and wanted to pattern himself after him, but also found himself intimidated by the officer as well.

"Sergeant Kohl, if anybody is looking for me, I will be at Stalag 13."

"Jawohl, captain. Do you know how long you will be gone?"

Fuchs scowled at the sergeant. He had no time for idle chit-chat. "Nein. I will return when I return. That is all you need to know."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain." The sergeant smartly saluted Fuchs who, after returning the salute, briskly walked away. He had a meeting to attend with Colonel Hogan and time was of the essence.

 _ **(Current Time):**_

Hotch put down the journal and glanced at his watch. It was nearing eleven p.m. With a sigh, he grabbed his briefcase from under the desk, put the journal inside, and snapped it shut. He turned off his desk lamp, got to his feet, and left his office. It was time to go home and hopefully get some sleep.

He trotted down the stairs of the catwalk and strode towards the bank of elevators. He pressed the 'down' button and waited. As he waited, Hotch looked around the office and wasn't surprised to find he was the only person still on the floor. As he let out a deep breath through his mouth, an elevator door hissed open. He stepped inside, and as the door hissed closed, pressed the button for the parking garage.

The descent was a lonely one as the ride went straight down to the garage. The door hissed open and Hotch stepped out, and made his way to his parking spot. When he reached his vehicle, he opened the rear passenger door and tossed his briefcase inside and closed the door. He then opened the driver's side door of his SUV and climbed behind the wheel. As he put the key in the ignition, his cell phone rang.

With a weary sigh, Hotch reached inside his jacket, removed his cell phone, and checked his Caller ID. His eyes narrowed in puzzlement as he noticed who was calling. He pressed the 'call' button, and put the phone to his ear.

"What's up, Garcia?" he asked. "Better yet, why are you still awake at this hour?" The Unit Chief listened carefully to his excited tech analyst. Hotch chuckled. "Garcia, calm down, please. I can't understand a thing you're telling me. Now start again, but slowly. Now, what did you find?"


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Sorry for posting this so late. But I had to rewrite two pages of this chapter as what I originally had wasn't working. And because of this, future chapters will be late posting as well. Sorry.**

 **Chapter 29**

 _ **(Current Time – Continue):**_

The more Garcia talked, the more excited she became. So excited that Hotch not only had trouble following her, but able to getting a word in to interrupt her rambling. Despite how exhausted he was, he chuckled at his tech analyst's enthusiasm.

"Garcia, stop. Just stop and listen to me please. It's late and we're both tired. In less than an hour it'll be midnight, and I'm not going to call the team back into the office at this late hour for this. In fact, I'm just leaving the office now myself. No, don't apologize. Just listen to me closely. I want you to hang up and get some sleep. Whatever you have can wait until tomorrow. In the morning, come in early and come directly to my office. We can get the team together in the conference room then." A wide grin appeared as he listened. "I promise I will drive carefully. Now go to sleep and that's an order. Goodnight, Garcia." He disconnected the call and put the cell back inside his jacket.

* * *

Garcia hung up after bidding goodnight to her supervisor, and reluctantly turned off her laptop. She had been excited about what she had found and felt this information would excite Hotch as much as it did her. She really could not wait for morning to come so she could show her Bossman what she had found. With a happy smile, she turned off the lamp on her nightstand, snuggled under her comforter pulling it up under her chin, and closed her eyes. Sleep took over before long.

Morning came much too soon as far as Aaron Hotchner was concerned. In fact, when he walked through the double doors and into the BAU, he paused momentarily in stunned surprise. Penelope Garcia stood waiting outside his closed office door holding a folder in her hands. With an amused grin on his face and a shake of his head, he continued forward and up the steps to the catwalk.

"Sir, I hope you don't mind that I waited for you," Penelope started. "I wanted to make sure I caught you before you started working."

Hotch held up a hand stopping her as he walked past her and into his office with the tech analyst following him. She stood in front of his desk as Hotch sat down behind his desk, sitting his briefcase on the floor under it. As he straightened up in his chair, he gestured with a hand for her to come closer.

"Please sit down, Penelope," he said. "I'd feel better if we were talking eye-to-eye. I promise I don't bite despite what others might say or think."

"Oh no, sir, nobody says or thinks that about you." Penelope suddenly realized her Unit Chief was joking and grinned at him. Joking was something he was not known for doing. Many people who did not know Hotchner called him cold, unfeeling, and a robot. But to his team, family, and close friends, he was a warm and compassionate man who felt things deeply, especially the suffering of those who needed their help. He also had a bone-dry sense of humor that many didn't get or understand. But Garcia and the others got it. An affectionate smile appeared. "Yes, sir," she said as she slowly sat down in a chair facing her boss's desk and looked him directly in the eye.

"Okay, now what did you find last night so interesting that you had to call me?"

"Only this, sir." The tech analyst handed the folder to him, and waited as Hotch scanned a bit of the contents. With eyebrows knitted, he looked up at the blonde.

"Is this true?" he asked.

"Without a doubt, sir. I decided to continue my search for anything else that might have happened in or around Stalag 13 like our boy genius mentioned yesterday. Y'know, something that had no explanation as to how it was solved, and this tidbit caught my attention."

"Who is Major Hans Teppel?" (1)

"That's where it gets weird, my liege. I discovered it's not his real name. His real name is Robert J. Morrison." She shifted her position on the chair as she continued. "As you can see, Morrison was a German-American born in Milwaukee. It's because of his dual citizenship that the Allies wanted to use him as an agent for the United States. So he was ordered to give up his American citizenship to join the German army. As part of his activities, he became a major in German Intelligence under the name of Hans Teppel."

Hotch nodded his understanding. "I see he was a major with the Abwehr."

"Yes, sir. It turned out Morrison was one of the Allies' deep-cover secret agents in Germany. He came to Stalag 13 to question Hogan and the other prisoners. And I'll give you three guesses who he wanted to take with him to Abwehr Headquarters in Berlin?"

"Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau, Carter, and Kinchloe."

"Give the man with great hair and the red silk tie a cigar. He ended up taking those five to Abwehr Headquarters for further questioning; on what I have no idea. Also, Klink and Schultz tagged along as the prisoners were property of the Luftwaffe. Apparently Teppel aka Morrison, wanted to pump Hogan and his men for intelligence about the amphibious landing in France that the Germans suspected the Allies were planning. Although how prisoners would know anything about D-day is anybody's guess."

Hotch stroked his chin. "I suspect Hogan was at least familiar with D-Day to a certain degree," he pointed out. "But something tells me Morrison needed Hogan's help for something else."

"What do you think that something else might have been, sir?"

"Think about it for a minute. Morrison is working for the Allies. Makes sense from what we've discovered so far, that he must have needed to make contact with Hogan and his men for some reason. An assignment perhaps."

"You think?"

"Yes, I do." Hotch's eyes narrowed. "And bringing them to Abwehr Headquarters was more than likely a ruse to get them out of Stalag 13. I see here he wanted to take Hogan, Newkirk and Carter somewhere for even more intense interrogation. Did you find anything on that or where he took them?"

"Yes and no, sir. And I did find something strange."

"How strange?"

"Rod Serling strange, sir. And if you pardon my saying so, this could've been an episode on the Twilight Zone." (2)

"Just get to the point, Garcia."

"Yes, sir. Sorry. The only thing I could find was that Morrison or Teppel was dissatisfied with the answers he got from those three. So he apparently decided to transport them to another location in Berlin for more intensive questioning if you get my drift."

"That makes perfect sense, considering what we've uncovered so far." Hotch rubbed his chin lost in thought. "Did you find out how and where he might have taken them for this intensive questioning?"

"Not really, sir. But I was able to find that the Abwehr had an ambulance they sometimes used to transport prisoners as a way not to attract attention. Maybe he used that to transport them."

"Hmmm." Hotch overlapped his hands and rested his chin on them as he mulled something over in his mind. "I wonder…" he muttered out loud.

"Wonder what, sir?"

"I'm just wondering if Teppel used that mode of transportation to take his prisoners to wherever he was taking them. It certainly would allow him to move them without suspicion."

"That might be true, sir, but truth is, I can't find anything except one thing, but I'll keep searching if you want."

"Don't waste your time. I suspect Morrison's mission was possibly to retrieve somebody who was in Berlin, and needed Hogan's help to do it. Now, tell me what was the one thing you said you found."

"I not sure if this might be connected to what we are talking about, but I found another German-American last name of Decker. He was registered at a fancy hotel in Berlin about the same time as Hogan and company came to Berlin. Now, from what this technological goddess has been able to find, Decker was one of the top control agents in London, and went by the code-name Robin Hood. It seems he came back to Germany. But here's where it gets weird. Decker was really a double agent. In other words, he was really working for the Nazis while pretending to work for the Allies. But it gets even weirder."

"How so?"

"It seems that Decker mysteriously ended up back in London and nobody knows how he got there."

"I think we can assume that Hogan and his men helped get Decker back to London," Hotch explained with an amused grin.

"I think so too, my liege," Garcia said with a smile.

"From what you've just told me, Decker worked in London for the Allies for several years. I'm willing to bet he returned to Germany at this particular time to tell all he knew about the Allies entire undercover network. We're talking about possibly 300 to 400 secret operatives in all, maybe more. This says he was to report to SS Headquarters in Berlin, and meet with an SS General named Schellenberg." He glanced up at the blonde when he heard a gasp.

"What is it?"

"Sir, I'm guessing Hogan and his men would be on that list as would Major Teppel. I bet this Decker could have not only cost the Allies the war if he had talked, but gotten Hogan and his men along with hundreds of innocent people killed."

Hotch nodded his head. "Unfortunately during wartime a double agent was not that unusual."

"Sir, if memory serves, Decker didn't meet with General Schellenberg. He was at the Russian Front. Instead, Decker was to be met by an SS officer named Metzger who was a subordinate of a Colonel Braun who was a member of Schellenberg's staff. He was to personally take Decker to Schellenberg."

"And did he?"

"Not from what I can tell, sir. Oddly enough, what I can tell you is that this Decker left the hotel with Colonel Braun following him. But once they were outside the hotel, Colonel Braun was suddenly shot dead by someone unseen. Metzger hurried outside and Decker pointed in the direction from which he suspected the fatal shot came from sending Metzger and his men scurrying away after the shooter."

"Did they ever find out who fired the fatal shot?"

"No, sir. But Decker disappeared from outside the hotel and didn't reappear until he reached London, England."

A slight smile appeared on Hotch's face as he nodded. "I think Morrison needed Hogan's help getting Decker out of Germany and back to London before he talked. But when this Metzger and Colonel Braun showed up unannounced, things got a bit sticky so to speak."

"How so, sir?" Garcia asked tilting her head to the side.

"Well, I suspect Teppel and Hogan were to take Decker from the hotel, but didn't expect Braun and Metzger to show up unannounced. Somehow Decker left the hotel with Braun who got shot. Of course it's possible the shooter meant to hit Decker and shot Braun by accident. We'll probably never know. But no matter how it happened, Decker disappeared outside the hotel only to reappear in London."

"That's how I see it also, sir."

Hotch checked the time and found the work day was at least an hour old already.

"That'll be all for now, Garcia. We both have work to do. You can do more checking on your lunch break or after work. All right?"

Garcia smiled as she started to her feet. "Yes, sir." She turned and started toward the closed door, and grabbed the door handle.

"Oh…and Garcia?"

The tech analyst turned her head in Hotch's direction. "Yes, sir?"

"You do excellent work. Keep it up, as only a technological genius can."

Garcia's smile widened. "Thank you, sir, and I will, sir."

* * *

Hotchner sighed as he tossed his pen aside, leaned back in his chair, and ran both hands down his face. He checked his watch, and noticed lunchtime had rolled around before he even realized it. The day was officially half over, and he was already exhausted. With another sigh, he got to his feet, grabbed his coffee cup from his top side desk drawer, and left his office. He'd get himself a cup of coffee, return to his office, and read a bit for the rest of the lunch hour.

 _ **(Later the Same Day):**_

Olsen, Hogan, and Carter were enjoying the warm sunshine outside their barracks as there was nothing to do until Bluebird had arrived. Hogan glanced at his watch and let out a deep breath.

"I hope Fuchs gets here soon," Hogan muttered as his eyes returned to watching several of the prisoners mulling around the compound taking part in various activities. "Hanging around and waiting is not one of my best attributes."

As if the answer to a prayer, a black car suddenly drove through the front gates, its Gestapo flags flapping in the light breeze, and pulled up outside the Kommandantur. The trio paid close attention and noticed a tall Gestapo officer dressed in black with blond hair, get out of the front passenger seat while the driver remained seated. The German glanced around discreetly in the direction of barracks two and his eyes met Hogan's. The American faintly nodded his head.

"Time for a coffee break, guys," the colonel said as he reached for the doorknob of the barracks with the others following him. Once inside, Hogan gestured for Baker to join them as he headed to his private quarters. Hogan quickly plugged in the coffee pot that was connected to a hidden microphone in Klink's office. They all gathered around the officer's desk to listen as they heard a door open.

* * *

Klink was leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk, reading a German girlie magazine when the interruption came. He was paying more attention to the photos when he spotted the door starting to open. He quickly put his feet on the floor and shoved the magazine in his middle desk drawer. Then he grabbed his pen, hoping to look like he had been hard at work on reports. He glanced up when the door fully opened and spotted his blonde secretary standing in the doorway.

"What is it, Fraulein Hilda? I am terribly busy and cannot be disturbed. Tell whoever I have no time for them and to come back another time."

Hilda, who knew how 'busy' Klink really was, wasn't fooled one bit. She kept a blank expression on her face.

"Sir, there's a Captain Fuchs of the Gestapo demanding to see you."

The Kommandant's body shivered hearing the name, and straightened up in his chair. He gave Hilda his complete attention and the smile on his face was forced to hide his sheer terror.

"Why didn't you say, so, Fraulein? Have him come in at once."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."

Hilda stood aside just in time for Fuchs to march past her. Once he did, Hilda left the office and closed the door behind her.

The German stood before Klink's desk with hands clasped behind his back, his icy blue eyes glaring at the Kommandant watching the man shrivel before him. Klink refused to admit to anybody that this man scared him more than Hochstetter. He wondered why the man was even here and not the major. But his fear wouldn't allow him to even ask. In fact, he really didn't even want to know the answer.

"Captain Fuchs, let me say what a pleasure…."

" _I am not here on a social call, Klink!_ I am here on Gestapo business."

Klink swallowed nervously. "Of course you are, captain. Sir, if I had known you were coming…."

"The Gestapo is not in the habit of _telling_ anyone when they are coming." Fuchs grinned a twisted grin that sent shivers down the Kommandant's spine. "Keeps people on their toes so to speak."

"Of course, sir. I only meant that…"

"Save your bootlicking for General Burkhalter. I am here to question one of your prisoners about the destruction of the Schweinfurt Bridge and the convoy using it."

"I heard about the bridge…" the rest of the sentence stuck in Klink's throat as Fuchs glared accusingly at him. He swallowed hard. "Which prisoner, captain?"

"Colonel Hogan."

Klink got shakily to his feet. "But…but…I assure you Colonel Hogan had nothing to do with the destruction of the bridge and the convoy. He was in camp all night."

" _You can assure me of nothing, Klink!"_ Fuchs bellowed. "And let me say if you keep stalling, I will consider you an accomplice in the sabotage, and question you along with Hogan!"

Klink held up his hand. "That won't be necessary, captain. I am a loyal German; always have been and always will be. The Fuhrer even knows how loyal I am, sir."

" _Stop babbling, Klink! My patience is wearing thin!"_

"Yes, sir. Where would you like to question, Colonel Hogan? In his barracks perhaps?"

"Nein. Have him brought to one of your interrogation cells. I will interrogate him there. And let me add, if I don't like his answers, I will be taking him to Gestapo headquarters with me!" A twisted smile appeared. "You would do well to make certain I don't take you to Gestapo headquarters as well."

Klink swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir. Schuuuuuulllltttttzzzz!"

A few minutes passed before the door to Klink's inner office opened, and Schultz waddled in and saluted Klink.

"Sergeant Schultz reporting as ordered, Herr Kommandant." The obese guard then noticed Fuchs and his eyes widened in fear. He had met the Gestapo officer before when he had arrived with Hochstetter, and admitted the man was scary.

"Schultz, Captain Fuchs wishes to question Colonel Hogan privately. You will go to barracks two and bring Hogan to one of the interrogation cells. Understand?"

"Understood, Herr Kommandant." Schultz saluted again and left the office, all the time wondering what the American officer did this time.

* * *

Carter looked at his commanding officer with a grin on his face. "Boy, Bluebird sure does scare Klink."

Hogan smirked. "That isn't hard to do, Carter. A shadow on the wall could scare Klink."

The others laughed at the officer's remarks.

"Well," Hogan began. "I'd better get ready for Schultz when he comes. Wouldn't want to keep him waiting too long."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch stopped reading to check the time again. He noticed he still had about fifteen minutes left for lunch and figured he could read just a bit more.

* * *

(1) Major Teppel is a character from Bad Day in Berlin, Season 4.

(2) Rod Serling was an American screenwriter, playwright, television producer, and narrator. He created The Twilight Zone for CBS which premiered October 2, 1959 and ran for five years.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

 _ **(A Short Time Later – Stalag 13):**_

Hogan found himself seated on the lumpy bunk bed in the interrogation cell waiting for Bluebird. To pass the time, he glanced around and took in the scant accommodations in the cell. Besides the bunk bed, there was a small worn wooden table, and an equally worn wooden chair and a small sink; that was it. Hogan sighed wearily as he leaned his back against the wall, wrapped his arms around himself, and crossed his legs. The officer chuckled as he recalled that it wasn't difficult convincing Schultz into putting him in a cell with a hidden tunnel entrance. The sound of approaching footsteps suddenly caught his ears, and diverted his attention making him look toward the cell door. Moments later, he noticed the obese guard followed by a Gestapo officer come into view.

"Hi'ya, Schultz," the American officer said with a smile. "You coming to keep me company I hope? The only person I have to talk to is myself. Or did they arrest you, too?" He feigned deep concern for the large man who should never have been a soldier.

"Nein. I'm sorry, Colonel Hogan," Schultz replied sadly as he unlocked the cell door and held it open allowing the German officer to pass him and enter the cell. Fuchs stood quietly just inside the cell door with hands clasped behind him, glaring at the American.

"Leave us, sergeant," Fuchs hissed not taking his eyes off Hogan. "I will summon you when I'm done."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain." Schultz saluted and locked the cell door. He glanced briefly back at Hogan sadly before he turned and walked away leaving the two men alone.

Fuchs grinned as the guard's footsteps receded, and approached Hogan who got to his feet and held out his hand which Fuchs shook.

The American smirked. "We listened over the coffee pot, Fritz. I'm glad you're on our side. You scared even me, so you definitely terrified Klink, and he can't afford to lose anymore hair."

Fuchs chuckled. "Sorry about that, Rob. But to be honest, I would be bored to death if I had to deal with your Kommandant on a daily basis." He pulled the chair away from the table, turned it around backwards and sat down, resting his hands on the back of the chair.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather deal with him than with your boss," Hogan replied with a grin. But as quick as the grin appeared on his face, it disappeared and replaced by a serious expression. "Fritz, what the hell happened last night? You told me you had reassigned your men away from the bridge."

"And I had just as I promised. But a rogue sergeant and two of his men disobeyed my orders, and went to the bridge anyway. I became aware of this earlier today when I arrived at Gestapo Headquarters. He is a sergeant named von Einsenburg. He also told anybody who would listen that he had arrested Papa Bear when he arrested your men."

Hogan shot to his feet, and with hands stuck in the back pockets of his trousers, began to pace.

"I'm sure Hochstetter must have been thrilled until he got a look at the guys."

Fuchs smiled. "We're in luck there, my friend. The major has been on leave and left about a week ago. He wasn't due back for another week. But von Eisenburg called him in Bamberg and told him he had Papa Bear without telling me in advance. After hearing that, you can understand that the major is now on his way back to Hammelburg."

"How long before he gets back?"

Fuchs checked his watch. "He hasn't arrived in Munich yet. It's about an eight hour trip from Bamberg itself. I tried to have one of the men stop him before he even left Bamberg, but it was too late for that. It will take about four more hours to reach Munich. I left a message with the Ticketmaster there hoping the major will turn around and return to Bamberg. I asked that he call me right away and stressed that it was urgent that he do so." He sighed. "But should he continue on to Hammelburg, it won't give us much time. It'll give us only a little over twenty-four hours to rescue your men and get them out of Gestapo headquarters before he returns."

"Not only that, but we have to take care of Sergeant von Eisenburg and his two cronies as well."

"I'm not concerned about them; that should not be a problem. It's your men I'm concerned about, one in particular."

Hogan stopped pacing and sat back down on the bunk facing Fuchs.

"How are my men? Are they all right?"

Fuchs nodded with a grim look. "I had Doctor Prust come out to examine and treat your men. Newkirk and LeBeau are bruised and battered having been beaten, but for the most part are in good shape. It's Hotchner I'm worried about the most. He has a mild concussion, a badly swollen eye, and cuts and bruises."

Hogan ground his lower jaw for a few moments as anger showed on his face. "What did Prust say about Hotchner? How bad are his injuries?"

Fuchs chewed his lower lip for a moment. "Your man should be all right although his eye will have to be cared for by a specialist once the swelling goes down more. He can't tell if there's any damage done. But that's not what worries me."

Hogan stared at the German sensing he wasn't going to like what was said next.

"What worries you, my friend?"

"I'll be honest, Rob. Your sergeant Hotchner blames me for what happened and said as much out loud while conscious. Fortunately nobody heard him except Newkirk and LeBeau. I managed to turn off the recording device before I went into the cell where they were being held. Prust gave him a sedative which will allow him to rest and sleep for about twelve hours, and gave me enough for two more injections. Anymore than three injections could be dangerous in his current condition. But what worries me most is if he regains consciousness. He could say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and if that happens, I could be exposed and killed as well as my family."

Hogan let out a deep breath and stared into the German's blue eyes. "What are you saying exactly?" he asked. He believed he already realized what Fuchs was going to say, but he wanted the German to say it nonetheless.

"I'm saying that I will help you every way I can to save all three of your men. But if it becomes necessary, Hotchner will become expendable. I will not endanger Lilly and David, and countless others for him."

Hogan pursed his lips as he mulled over what Fuchs had said. This was the risks he and his men took with the work they did, and any of them could die at any time. And while he didn't plan on intentionally sacrificing the life of any of his men, he understood what Fuchs was telling him. In other words, he didn't like the idea, but he understood it completely.

"I understand," was all he told the German officer calmly. "And I'm glad you discussed this with me alone instead of with my men present. You do whatever you must to protect your family." He ran both hands down his face. "So we have a little over twenty-four hours to save the guys, and take care of your three rogue soldiers before Hochstetter returns."

"That is what it boils down to, my friend. I'm hoping together we can come up with a workable plan to do this."

Hogan bent forward and placed clasped hands between his knees. He chewed his lower lip. "I have an idea in my head, but I need to work out the details. But I will say right now we're gonna need Prust's help. But first I need to find out if you managed to stop your boss from returning to Hammelburg because if you did, that will give us more time. How soon can you get back to me with that information?"

"I should know in a few hours. By the time he reaches Munich if he hasn't called me, we can assume he is returning to Hammelburg. I will contact you by radio the moment I find out."

"Good. Before then I should have worked out the details of my idea. And after I hear from you I will contact Prust." He saw the worried expression on his friend's face and offered a slight grin. "Try not to worry. I'm positive we can handle everything in a prompt fashion, and take care of your rogue men."

 _ **(Current Time)**_

Hotch drank the last of his lukewarm coffee then tossed the empty Styrofoam cup in his wastebasket. He had sent Garcia back to her lair about five minutes ago so he could go back to work and had instructed her to do the same. And although he knew how Penelope was, he also knew she would do as he ordered. He grabbed another file folder from his in-box.

But before he opened it, what he had just read earlier came to the forefront of his mind. He tapped his pen against the desktop unable to push things to the back of his mind. He massaged his forehead with the fingers of his opposite hand as he felt a headache beginning to pound in his head.

"C'mon, Aaron," he muttered half to himself. "You've got too much work to get done to sit around lost in thought."

Letting out a deep breath, Hotch opened the file in front of him and began to read the report.

* * *

He had lost track of how many hours had gone by when he finally signed off on the last file in his in-box. A small smile crept onto his face as he leaned back in his chair and sighed out loud.

"Finally," he muttered staring at the closed door of his office. But before he had a real chance to enjoy having finished his files, there was a knock on his office door. "Come in," he said as he straightened up in his chair.

The door opened and Emily Prentiss walked in hesitantly. Her brown eyes met the dark ones of David Rossi.

"Rossi, can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked standing in front of his desk.

"Of course. You know you can talk to me about anything at anytime. Have a seat." Rossi waited as the brunette woman seated herself in one of the chairs facing his desk. He clasped his hands together on top of his desk and focused on the brunette woman. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Emily licked her lips for a second as she arranged her words in her mind so she would know how she would say them.

"JJ and I have a slight problem," she said tentatively.

"And what would that be exactly?"

"Well, we checked with Garcia like Hotch asked us to, and we got the names of the children and grandchildren of Hogan and Kinchloe. But so far we haven't followed up on them because we were asked not to as they might be military. We need to know what we should do. We both feel like we aren't contributing towards helping Hotch solve his mystery and it bothers us."

Rossi mulled over what the brunette had said as he chewed his lower lip. He sympathized with both women, but wasn't exactly sure what Hotch wanted them to do except to hold onto the information for now.

"I understand the left out feeling you and JJ have in this, I really do. But unfortunately I can't say what Hotch wants you to do with the information except to hold onto it for now. I promise you he has not forgotten about it. It's just…..well….right now we are finding out more information than we planned. But rest assured we may need the information you both have at some point." The older man studied the brunette's dark eyes and saw her nod slowly.

"So Hotch is still finding more information?" she asked.

"You have no idea," Rossi chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised if he finds out enough information to write a book himself."

Prentiss and the older man shared a laugh as she pushed herself up out of the chair. She headed toward the office door when a voice called out to her.

"Emily?"

"What is it?" she asked, turning and looking over her shoulder.

"Y'know, something's been buggin' me since this entire thing came out." Rossi stroked his beard. "For some reason the name Hogan is familiar to me but I can't figure out why that should be."

Prentiss walked back toward the senior agent's desk and stood in front of it, eyes studying the man behind the desk.

"What makes you say that? Do you know somebody in Hogan's family?"

Rossi sighed and shook his head as he gestured with one hand. "I'm not sure. That's why I don't want to say anything. It's just that the name sounds familiar to me and I can't explain why." He looked into Emily's eyes beseechingly. "Promise me this will stay between us for now. I don't want to get Aaron's hopes up and find out in the end I was wrong."

Prentiss shook her head tossing a strand of jet black hair over her shoulder.

"You have my word. What you just told me stays between us."

Rossi grinned charmingly. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Prentiss remarked as she turned around and walked out of Rossi's office.

Now alone, the older man leaned back in his chair and massaged his chin.

"Why does the name Hogan stick out in my mind so much?" he asked himself now lost in thought. "There has to be a reason for it. I just wish I could remember where I've heard that name before now."

Letting out a deep breath of frustration, Rossi opened his bottom desk drawer and removed a bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch and a tumbler. He needed a drink badly.

* * *

Hotch was scrawling his signature on another report while at the same time trying to bury his feelings about what he had read in the journal. A sudden knock on his door interrupted him.

"Come in," he said looking up, waiting.

The door opened and in walked Spencer Reid carrying several file folders in his arms. He dropped them in his boss's in-box with a regretful expression on his face.

"Sorry, Hotch. I didn't want to give you more work to do, but I finished these."

Hotch smiled warmly at the resident genius. Reid always did finish his case files before everybody else on the team. Sometimes his teammates snuck a few of their files in his in-box; especially Morgan. And although Hotch didn't like it and often chastised Morgan for taking advantage, his youngest never complained and simply took it in stride.

"It's okay, Reid."

After dropping the files in his boss's in-box, Reid paused and stared at his Unit Chief.

"Something on your mind?" Hotch asked arching an eyebrow quizzically.

Reid chewed his lower lip. "Hotch, can I ask you something and promise you won't get angry at me?"

"You can ask me anything, and no I won't get angry at you. I promise I won't. What is it?"

The young genius hesitated for a few seconds. Then he stared deeply into his superior's caramel-colored eyes with his hazel ones.

"Please don't take this the wrong way because I don't mean…"

"Reid," Hotch said slightly annoyed.

"Right. Sorry. I am puzzled by something that hasn't been discussed since you asked our help solving this mystery of your grandfather's journal."

"What puzzles you?"

"Only this. Have you given any thought to what you're going to do if you aren't able to answer all the questions raised in your grandfather's journal? Because of the classification status I mean?"

Hotch found himself speechless for once in his life. His subordinate had asked a question which he had never considered or even given any thought to during his investigation.

The Unit Chief struggled to come up with an answer to Reid's question that would not only satisfy the young genius as well as himself.

What would he do?


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Hotch struggled within himself to come up with a plausible answer to Reid's question but found he couldn't; at least not right now. Maybe after he thought about it more he might be able to come up with something acceptable.

"I won't lie to you, but right now I don't have an answer to give you because I don't really know myself. Sorry."

The genius nodded his head as he considered his boss's response. Finally, after a minute or two, he shrugged his shoulders.

"That's okay. I didn't expect you to have an answer because I figured you hadn't given the possibility any consideration. But I figured I should bring it to your attention just in case."

"And you did. Thank you for making me realize something I hadn't given any thought to at all."

Unfortunately Reid didn't quite understand to what Hotch was referring. He studied his Unit Chief with wide eyes.

"And what was that?"

Hotch smiled affectionately. "You made me realize that it's possible I may not find all the answers I'm looking for in the end."

"Can you accept that?"

This time it was Hotch who shrugged. "I'll have to, won't I?"

Reid subtly nodded as he had no answer for his boss for once.

"I'd better get back to my work and let you get to yours." Reid turned and headed toward the office door. As he grabbed the door handle, he looked over his shoulder and saw Hotch's eyes still on him. The younger man gave a small smile to his boss. "If you want to talk I'm available anytime you want."

"I'll keep that in mind," was Hotch's reply. He was inwardly growing impatient for his subordinate to leave.

The moment he was alone in his office with the door closed, Hotch slammed his pen down and massaged his forehead with one hand. He was glad Reid had left when he did, as he didn't know how much longer he could have maintained his somewhat pleasant expression. After he had read what he had in the journal earlier, his anger started to grow again. He desperately needed to talk with someone…anyone. He got to his feet and left his office with the journal, heading to Rossi's office hoping the older man was still there.

* * *

Rossi sat sipping his Scotch when he spotted Aaron striding by his partially opened Venetian blinds in the window. He noticed the younger man was moving with a purpose, so he assumed it had to be something important. The senior agent sat his tumbler down in front of him on the desk as Hotch entered without knocking. He closed the door and sat down in a chair in front of the older man's desk without invitation, and set about trying to gather his emotions. He eyed the alcohol on the desk while keeping the journal in his lap.

"Pour me one of those," Hotch ordered.

Rossi nodded and reached into his desk drawer again and removed another glass.

"C'mon in, Aaron, have a seat," Rossi remarked as he poured without looking at the man. "Want a drink?"

"Don't talk, just pour the damn Scotch."

Rossi eyed his friend with wide eyes as he slid the glass toward his friend, then picked up his own.

"Well, Strauss has already left for the day so she's not the one who's got you wound tighter than a main spring. So exactly what has your boxers in a knot?" Rossi took a sip of his drink and waited patiently.

Hotch picked up the tumbler and took a huge gulp of the amber liquor, enjoying the welcome burning as it slid down his throat. He closed his eyes and let out a deep contented sigh. The liquor was starting to have a calming effect on him.

"Okay, now you've had your drink, so talk to me. What's troubling you? Since you brought the journal with you, I assume you read something that bothered you."

Opening his eyes, Hotch tossed the journal onto the older man's desk and took another sip of his drink. He stared into Rossi's brown eyes.

"Remember when I told you my grandfather, Newkirk, and LeBeau had been captured by the Gestapo who mistook my granddad for Colonel Hogan?"

"Yeah…"

"I read that Captain Fuchs and Hogan had discussed how to rescue his men and that my grandfather was expendable!"

Rossi leaned back in his chair holding his glass in his lap with both hands, eyes fixed on Hotch.

"Tell me what happened."

In as few words as possible, the Unit Chief told the senior agent about the conversation between Fuchs and Hogan. When he finished, he sat and waited for a response while taking another sip of Scotch.

"How do you feel about that decision by Fuchs?"

"How the hell do you think I feel? _I'm damn angry about it!"_

"As well you should be, my friend."

Hotch shook his head; sometimes his best friend could be a real pain in his butt, and this was one such time. It grated on Aaron sometimes that Rossi could read him like an open book.

"I'm not in the mood for any of your _damn_ guessing games! If you have something to say then say it!"

Rossi let out a deep breath through his mouth as he shook his head.

"I can see you're in a good mood." He sensed Hotch about to say something and held up one hand stopping him. "Sorry. I figure you're angry that Hogan and Fuchs considered your grandfather expendable if push came to shove when trying to save the men. Correct?"

"Correct. If my grandfather had been killed, my late dad wouldn't have existed which meant I wouldn't have existed, and neither would Jack. How can you stay so calm after hearing that? I read it hours ago and I'm still pissed!"

"Let me ask you something and be honest with your answer. Think you can do that for me?"

"Depends on what you want to ask me."

"Let's suppose Jack was the prisoner of an UnSub, and he, or she, was going to kill him simply to torture you. What would you do?"

Hotch rolled his eyes. "How can you…?"

"Just answer the question, Aaron. What would you do?" Rossi stared at the younger man intently.

Hotch sighed. "I would give my life to save my son and you know that."

"In other words you would first try to save him, but if need be, you would sacrifice yourself to save him."

Hotch swallowed the building lump in his throat but remained silent. He had an idea where Rossi was going with this analogy.

"Isn't that what Hogan and Fuchs decided to do in trying to save all three men? You told me Fuchs agreed to help Hogan try and save all three of his men. But if it came down to it, he refused to endanger his wife and infant son. Keep in mind your granddad had a concussion and they were afraid he might say the wrong thing to the wrong person...like Major Hochstetter."

Rossi saw he had Hotch's complete attention and decided to forge ahead. "If that had happened, your granddad, Newkirk, LeBeau, Fuchs, and yes Hogan and who knows how many more would be dead along with them. Fuchs was protecting his wife and infant son just as you would Jack. Also, she's Jewish as we found out. What chance would she and her baby stand if anything happened to Fuchs and her religion was discovered?"

Hotch bowed his head and massaged his temple.

"I know you're right, but it just angers me to think about it."

Rossi grinned. "Then don't think about it like that. Think how your granddad's life was saved thanks to Hogan and Fuchs working together. And thanks to them, you're granddad lived, and made it possible for your dad, you, and Jack to be born."

Hotch offered Rossi a small smile and finished off his drink. He sat the glass on the edge of the desk, grabbed the journal and got to his feet.

"Thanks, Dave. I knew I could count on you."

Rossi smirked. "Anytime, my friend." He checked his watch. "It's late. Get your sorry ass outta here and go home. If need be we can talk more tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Dave," Hotch said as he turned toward the door.

"Goodnight, Aaron."

* * *

Shortly after he got home, Hotch stripped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He was too tired to cook dinner for himself, and Jack wasn't home, so he called and ordered an anchovy pizza from a place around the corner. As he waited for the pizza to arrive, he sat down in his recliner carrying the journal. He decided to pass the time while waiting by reading.

 _ **(Four Hours Later - Munich Train Station):**_

Ticketmaster Wagner Hoffman was reviewing paperwork behind his counter when he heard the sound of a train. He glanced up and saw the incoming train from Bamberg pulling into the station. His eyes glanced sideways and spotted the handwritten message he had taken from Captain Fuchs of the Gestapo, reminding himself to give it to the major.

He was suddenly startled by a black gloved fist slamming down on the counter in front of him causing him to look up wide-eyed. There in front of him was a short man with a black mustache, black hair, and an angry scowl on his face. He wore a black uniform cap and a flowing black coat with a red armband on one sleeve. In the center of that armband was emblazoned a white circle with a black swastika inside of it. Also, the insignia on his collar identified him as a major.

Hoffman felt that if looks could kill, he would be dead right now, so intense was the major's glare. It was enough to burn a hole in someone. He guessed this annoying little man trying to look menacing because of his height was Major Hochstetter.

"How can I be of service to you, Herr Major?" Hoffman asked trying to stay polite.

"I need to get to Hammelburg as soon-as-possible. Is there a train that will get me there directly?" the major growled.

"One moment, major." Hoffman checked his schedule then looked up at the officer. "I'm sorry, sir. There is no direct train to Hammelburg. You must go to Stuttgart and from there to Hammelburg."

"How long before the train to Stuttgart?!"

"If it's on time you have a twenty-four hour wait before it gets here. If it's late, it'll take longer."

The major slammed his fist down again causing the counter to shake and other patrons to stare and move as far away from the major as they could. He also further annoyed Hoffman who watched him grind his lower jaw, and a growl was heard.

" _That is not adequate! I cannot and will not wait twenty-four hours! You will find me another train!"_

"I'm sorry, Herr Major, but there…."

" _Don't tell me what you can't do, idiot! Tell me what you can do! Get me an immediate train to Hammelburg now!"_

Hoffman was growing weary of this little man yelling at him and demanding things that weren't possible by any means.

"I repeat I am so sorry, major. But you need to go to Stuttgart before you can get to Hammelburg."

" _BAH_!" An exasperated Hochstetter hissed before turning away sharply and storming away from the counter. People made sure to stay clear of the Gestapo officer seeing the man was beyond livid. Everyone watched him stalk out of the station without a word to anyone.

Hoffman had seen Hochstetter leave and then glimpsed again at the note dictated by Captain Fuchs. He hadn't forgotten the give the major the note. It was because of the short man's screaming and yelling at him and being so rude to him. He didn't like people like that, acting like they owned the world, and the Gestapo major certainly was that in his opinion. He picked up the note, crumpled it, and tossed it in his wastebasket.

"Oh well," he said with a small grin as he returned to his paperwork. "Nobody will know I didn't give it to that unimportant little man."

* * *

It was an exhausted Fuchs entering Gestapo Headquarters having left Stalag 13 earlier. Letting his eyes scan around the area, he spotted Corporal Schneider talking with the guard at the information desk. He quickly strode across the room. He needed to find out one thing from Schneider as that one thing would decide his and Hogan's next move.

"Corporal," Fuchs said as he got closer to the man.

When he heard his name called, Schneider turned, smartly came to attention and saluted the captain.

"Herr Captain, I was looking for you but I was told you had driven out to Stalag 13."

"That is correct. Since we do not have Papa Bear in custody, I needed to find out just where Colonel Hogan was at the time of the sabotage."

"And?"

"He was at Stalag 13. And after questioning, I had no reason to arrest him and bring him in for further questioning. Now, why were you looking for me?"

"There has been no phone call from the major, Herr Captain."

Fuchs let out a deep breath. He had been hoping the major would have called. He checked his watch. "His train from Bamberg arrived in Munich nearly two hours ago. I left a message for him at the Munich station. If he got it, he would have called before now. So we must assume he will be here in a little over twenty-four hours from now."

"What do we do, sir?"

"Nothing we can do now except try to clean up this mess that von Eisenburg left us with, Corporal. But you can do one thing for me. Once the major arrives in Hammelburg, you are to drive to the train station and pick him up from there. He will want to come directly here, and trust me when I say he will not be in a good mood."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain. I will do as you ask."

Fuchs smiled. "Gut man. I am heading now to my office. I must try and see what can be done about von Eisenburg. Do not disturb me unless it's important. Verstehen?"

"Verstehen, Herr Captain."

Fuchs nodded then turned and walked away. He had an important phone call he needed to make.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Just then the doorbell chimed causing Hotch to look up from the journal. He figured it was the pizza he had ordered. He put down the journal on the arm of his recliner, and got to his feet to answer the door.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

An hour later Aaron had eaten three slices of pizza and drank two glasses of milk before his stomach was satisfied. He rinsed the glass and plate before he put them in the dishwasher and walked to the liquor cabinet. After he poured himself a glass of Scotch, he returned to his recliner and elevated his feet before picking up the journal to continue reading.

 _ **(Same Day - Short Time Later):**_

Hogan was seated at the desk in his private quarters. He was studying a drawing of the interior of Gestapo Headquarters, when there was a knock on his closed door. He looked up, waiting.

"Come in," he ordered.

The door opened and Baker walked in, a folded slip of paper in one hand. He closed the door behind him and approached his commanding officer.

"Message from Bluebird, sir," he explained handing the paper to Hogan.

The officer unfolded the paper and his eyes quickly read the brief message which consisted of two sentences. A frown appeared on his face.

"Fuchs never got a phone call from Hochstetter. He's coming back to Hammelburg," he explained looking up at the sergeant.

"Does that mean what I believe it does?"

Hogan let out a deep breath. "It means we have to go ahead with our plan to free the guys with just a little over twenty-four hours in which to do it." Hogan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not having much time I can only hope…"

"We can do it," Baker said. "We know you'll come up with something. You always do, Colonel."

Hogan opened his eyes and looked up into the other man's face. Baker had a smile and his eyes were brimming with confidence. Seeing that reaction made the ends of Hogan's mouth curl upward as a small smile formed.

"I'm glad you guys have that much confidence in me because we're going to need every bit of it this time beginning right now."

"We're not worried, sir. As I said, you'll come up with something."

Just then there was another knock on the door. Hogan looked past Baker. "Enter."

The door opened and Carter walked quietly into the room and closed the door. He spotted Baker and noticed the paper in Hogan's hand.

"Is that from Bluebird, sir?" he asked staring at his commanding officer.

"Yes," Hogan sighed. "He couldn't stop Hochstetter from coming back here. So we only have a small window of opportunity to save the guys." He saw the corners of Carter's mouth droop as a frown appeared on the young man's face. "You all right, Carter?"

The young sergeant shrugged his shoulders. When he heard this latest news it didn't exactly instill confidence things would work out successfully. "Not really, Colonel. I guess we should just be grateful that Bluebird had Doctor Prust treat the guys and make sure they're all right."

"I agree," Baker said. "Colonel, why can't we just have the underground storm Gestapo Headquarters, and take out von Eisenberg and his two buddies while we rescue the guys?"

It was then that a sly smile appeared on Hogan's face as the idea he had started taking shape in his mind. Both Baker and Carter noticed the change in the officer.

"You have an idea don't you, Colonel?" asked Baker.

"I had an idea earlier as I told Bluebird when he came to Stalag 13," the officer answered staring at Baker. "But you just gave me what I needed to work out the details. I want you to get on the switchboard, contact the hospital, and ask for Prust. We're going to need his services for this to work. If he's not available, leave him a message to get back to us by phone and…"

"You can't do that, Colonel!" Carter raised his voice. "You can't ask Doctor Prust to call back and ask for Colonel Robert Hogan or Papa Bear on the phone! You just can't do that!" He was starting to panic.

Hogan chuckled. "Relax, Carter, I have no intention of doing that. And while Prust can't ask for Colonel Robert Hogan or Papa Bear, he can ask for his Uncle Johann."

"Uncle Johann?" asked Carter.

"It was a codename Michael and I came up with early in our friendship in case we ever needed to talk with each other on the phone."

Carter nodded. "Now I get it, sir."

Baker rolled his eyes. "Sure you do, Carter," he teased.

Hogan held up a hand asking for silence.

"Sorry, sir," Baker apologized.

"That's okay. Baker, after you get in touch with Prust, use the radio and contact the underground. Ask for Red Angel. Tell her we need four men the Gestapo have never seen, and I need them here at ten p.m. for a meeting. Then contact Bluebird by phone and tell him I need him here at 2400 tonight."

Carter looked at Hogan somewhat puzzled.

"What's wrong?" asked Hogan, concerned.

"Colonel, I might be a bit slow, but why don't you have Bluebird and the underground meet here to save time?"

"Very simple," Hogan explained. "More than likely these four underground operatives will never meet Fuchs. But if something goes south tomorrow, and these operatives have seen Fuchs, and discover he's really Gestapo, he would be in danger. Or they might mistake him for a double agent and kill him. Or if they are arrested by the Gestapo, they might use their knowledge of him to save themselves, and I can't let either of those things happen. Besides, I owe it to Lily and David to keep Fritz safe as well as save the men."

"Gee, I never stopped to think about that. Thanks for pointing that out to me."

"No problem. I'll make sure to let the underground know Bluebird is helping us." His eyes darted to the radioman. "Baker, go."

"Yes, sir," the radioman replied and hurried out the door leaving Hogan and Carter alone.

"What do you need me to do, Colonel?" asked Carter eager to help somehow.

"Go get Olsen and Garlotti. You three are going to have an important role in this plan."

"Right away, boy….I mean, Colonel," Carter misspoke in his excitement. He started toward the door when Hogan called his name. The young sergeant paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Sir?"

"What I have in mind is planned in a hurry because time is against us. But if it's planned carefully, it could still work and save the guys and us."

Carter nodded. "Will it be risky?"

"More than any assignment we've ever handled in the past, Carter."

Carter smiled widely. "If it saves the guys and gets them back, then it'll be worth the risk, sir." He left leaving Hogan alone.

The American officer sighed, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms over his chest. He hated having to rush with his planning, and this would definitely be a first for him; for them all. But he was use to thinking on the spot in tight situations.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a knock on his door.

"Enter."

The door opened and Carter, followed by Garlotti and Olsen, walked into the room with Olsen closing the door. Carter sat down on Hogan's lower bunk, Garlotti on the edge of the colonel's footlocker, and Olsen leaned against the colonel's dresser.

"Carter said you wanted to see us, sir," Olsen said.

Hogan crossed his legs as he looked around at the three men. "Yes, so listen closely."

That said, Hogan began to explain what he needed this trio to do tomorrow.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

* * *

Hotch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the wall clock and noticed it was shortly after midnight. With a yawn, he pushed himself up out of the recliner and headed up the stairs to his bedroom, carrying the journal with him.

* * *

Rossi found himself wide awake despite being exhausted. He lay on his back in bed, and continued staring up at the ceiling. The entire bedroom was bathed in the pale light of the moon. With a deep sigh, he turned onto his side facing the window and stared at the moon outside brightly lit against the blackness of the sky.

 _I know I've heard the name Hogan before all this,_ he thought to himself. _But for the life of me I just can't remember where. Damn it!_ Figuring he wasn't about to get anymore sleep tonight, he threw back the covers. After he moved his feet over the side of the bed, he sat on the edge of the mattress. He ran both hands up and down his bearded face before getting to his feet, and stumbling through his darkened bedroom. He figured he would put on a pot of coffee, and then check out something that might give him the answer to why Hogan's name seemed familiar to him.

Not bothering to put on slippers, the older man cursed in Italian when he stubbed his big toe on the corner of his dresser. After he rubbed his aching toe, he limped back the way he had come, and turned on the small lamp on the night table. Now that the room was lit, he left the bedroom and headed downstairs. He walked into the kitchen, and plugged in the coffee maker before returning back upstairs and reentering his bedroom. He approached his dresser, opened the top drawer, and moved a few pieces of underwear before he found the item for which he was searching. It was his day planner.

* * *

His day planner open on the table in front of him, Rossi searched through the front part which was for names, addresses, and phone numbers. He kept flipping through the phone numbers section, until he finally came to the 'Hs.' He let his eyes scan the pages until he found the name Bobby E. Hogan III. A slow smile appeared. "I thought that name sounded familiar," Rossi muttered partially to himself. But he couldn't stop there. He needed to make sure this Bobby E. Hogan III was related to the late Colonel Robert E. Hogan of Stalag 13 before he pursued the matter further.

He rummaged through his dresser drawer until he found the 8.5x11.5 manila envelope containing copies of the information Garcia had discovered during her research. After he undid the clasp, he fingered through its contents until he found what he was searching for, and pulled out a single sheet of paper. On it was listed the offspring of the American officer. He read through the names until he found Robert E. Hogan III aka Bobby, who was the grandson of the late colonel. Rossi's smile widened.

As it was far too early to call the phone number he had, the senior agent promised himself he would call after he got to work later. Only a phone call with the younger Hogan would he be positive he had Hogan's grandson.

"You just might have the answers," he said staring at the man's name while sitting at his kitchen table with a mug of coffee and his legs crossed. "Because if you do, you could clear up this mystery." Rossi finished his now lukewarm coffee, got to his feet, and put his mug in the sink. He'd wash it out later before he went to work.

* * *

Hotch lay on his back in bed with hands intertwined behind his head staring up at the ceiling. He had been unable to sleep from the moment his head hit the pillow as he couldn't turn off his mind. He had been thinking a lot about Rossi's earlier analogy. But despite knowing his friend was right, it still angered him that if necessary, his grandfather had been declared expendable by Fuchs. _Especially_ as it was Fuchs who made the decision. Who was he, a member of the Gestapo, to make a decision like that for an American? Shouldn't a decision like that have been made by an American? Someone like Hogan? He let out a deep breath."

Dave's right," Hotch muttered half to himself. "I need to control my emotions if I'm going to solve this mystery. My grandfather obviously lived, so I should be grateful instead of letting my anger get the better of me. I need to get past this and remember this was during the war." He massaged his temple then understood he wouldn't get anymore sleep tonight and slid upward in the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He reached over and turned on the night lamp, grabbed the journal, and began to read.

* * *

 _ **(After Late-Night Roll-Call):**_

It was about nine-fifty-five p.m. when Carter and Baker emerged from the tunnel in barracks two followed by four men. Hogan and Olsen were standing nearby waiting for the men to step into the barracks. Carter and Baker were wearing their 'blacks', and Carter's face was smeared with grease.

"Any trouble?" Hogan asked with arms wrapped around himself, eying his young sergeant.

"No, sir," Carter replied. "No signs of patrols nowhere." He glanced over his shoulder at the four men. "Sir, meet Heinrich, Johann, and you already know Felix and Otto. Oh, and Red Angel says hello." An embarrassed grin appeared as he hung his head.

Hogan smirked hearing Red Angel's name remembering the pretty, green-eyed brunette whose real name was Felicia. But he soon snapped out of his daydream when Heinrich reached out a hand towards the officer. Hogan shook it.

"Glad you guys could make it here," he said with a grin. "I'm afraid we don't have a lot of time to complete this mission. We need to move on this tomorrow night."

Heinrich smiled. "We understand. It is an honor to meet and work with Papa Bear," the German replied. "Now, what do you need us to do?"

* * *

"So what d'ya think, Colonel?" asked Carter after Olsen had escorted the underground members out of the tunnel leaving the two men seated at the table in the darkened barracks. The other men were asleep in their cots used to the sounds and conversations. They were used to Hogan and his men's nightly comings and goings, and it didn't bother them. He and Hogan were enjoying cups of hot coffee. The colonel checked his watch.

"The underground knows what they have to do tomorrow, Carter. And they're aware Bluebird will be helping us. And seeing as none of them will meet Fuchs, he'll be in no danger of being mistaken for the enemy and killed." He took a sip of coffee. "And if everything goes according to plan, we'll be the only ones meeting with Fuchs."

"How long before Bluebird gets here?"

Hogan checked his watch again. It was going on eleven-thirty. "He should be here in a few minutes as I requested him to be here at 2400 hours. Quite worrying. He'll be here."

"Oh I'm not worried, sir," Carter said after taking a drink of his coffee. He glanced at his commanding officer innocently.

"Then what's bothering you?" Hogan asked with an arched eyebrow. "It's obvious something's on your mind."

The young sergeant shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I'm wondering what's gonna happen to those three Gestapo who captured the guys. I mean, they probably know they don't have Papa Bear in custody by now, but do they know Newkirk and LeBeau?"

Hogan let out a deep breath. He had wondered that himself as well.

"There's no way to tell. To be honest, I haven't thought about what we're going to do with them. I need to discuss that with Bluebird tonight. These are his men and he needs to be part of that decision as well. Can you understand that?"

Before Carter could open his mouth, there was a rattling sound in the corner as the mattress of the lower bunk lifted upward exposing the tunnel entrance. Both men looked around to see Saunders poke his head above the entrance. He met the officer's eyes.

"Colonel, Bluebird's below waiting for you," he said.

Hogan nodded as he got to his feet. "Thanks. Tell 'im I'll be right there."

"Yes, sir." Saunders disappeared below to carry out his commander's orders.

* * *

Hogan found Fuchs waiting for him just outside the radio room in the tunnels. He shook hands with the German.

"Glad you could make it, my friend," the American offered with a smile.

Fuchs smirked. "When Papa Bear requests a meeting, I am at his beck and call." He followed Hogan to another area of the tunnel still shy of the radio room. Hogan leaned against the dirt wall with arms wrapped around himself. He brown eyes stared into Fuchs blue ones.

"I spoke with Felix, Heinrich, Otto, and Johann of the underground. They're going to be assisting us tomorrow night." The colonel noticed the German's concerned look. "Don't worry. I explained that you will be helping us and let them think you are disguised as a Gestapo officer. Only Otto knows you by sight and he won't say anything to the others. Besides, they will not be joining us in Gestapo Headquarters. They will be waiting in the woods with a truck for us."

"And Prust?"

"He's assured me he will be on-call at the hospital when he gets a phone call asking for a doctor to come to Gestapo Headquarters."

"Excellent. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to make certain the three Gestapo soldiers are on duty in Gestapo Headquarters when Carter, Olsen, Garlotti and I come in dressed as Gestapo soldiers."

"I will see to it they are on duty. There is only a skeleton crew on duty at night so making them that crew will present no problem. Nor will there be anybody else there to create trouble. We should be able to carry out the rescue without interruptions."

The colonel nodded his head. Now came the difficult part in his opinion.

"Speaking of the three Gestapo, Fritz, we need to discuss something of importance."

"I think I know what you want to discuss. What are going to do with them afterwards."

Hogan licked his lips. "I wanted you to take part in the decision. Now I am aware they are not privy to any important military information. But they will find out the truth about you during the mission and put you in jeopardy. So I am considering sending them to London to live out the war in a comfortable POW camp. But if need be, we will not hesitate to kill them if it becomes necessary to protect us and you. How do you feel about that?"

Fuchs chewed his lower lip as he mulled things over in his head. Finally, after a few seconds, he stared at the American.

"I know you will try not to kill without a reason, my friend. I will understand regardless of what needs to be done. If they must be killed so be it. So do not concern yourself. In this business, we must often do things we find unpleasant."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch lay the journal face-down against his chest and closed his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He thought he understood the decision about his grandfather now that the same decision had been made about the three rogue Gestapo.

* * *

Rossi was back in his bedroom laying on his bed on his back his hands clasped behind his head. He was mulling over what he had found out earlier. He prayed that the 'Bobby' he had found was indeed the person of interest who could supply them with answers. At first he was positive, but now, he was beginning to have his doubts. Regardless, he'd have to play it by ear.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

Hotch opened his tired eyes and wiped the crustiness from them with his thumb and forefinger. At first he didn't realize where he was, and it took a few minutes for him to get acclimated to his surroundings. After he closed his eyes, shook his head, and opened them again, he realized he was in his bedroom still wearing his street clothes. He glanced around at the clock on his nightstand; the time was about six-thirty in the morning. Hotch usually awoke at five-thirty.

He yawned as he sat up straight on the mattress not noticing the journal slide off his body and land beside him on the bed. He glanced down and spotted it while rubbing the back of his neck hoping to get the stiffness out. A small part of him wanted to take a personal day and spend it reading, while the other half told him he needed to be at the BAU. He was not someone who took a day off unless it had to do with Jack. The BAU eclipsed everything, and had even led to the breakup of his marriage, and the eventual murder of his wife. But the one thing that eclipsed even the BAU was Jack. His son meant everything to him.

After he let out a deep breath, Aaron grabbed the journal and slowly got to his feet. He had made up his mind. As he ran a hand over his messy dark hair, he trudged around the bed to the other side and picked up the receiver of his phone. Sighing, he pressed the buttons and waited as the phone on the other end rang. He knew the man on the other end would be awake, so he wasn't concerned about waking him. There was a click on the other end.

"We better have a case, Aaron, because if we don't, I'm gonna kick your sorry butt."

Hotch chuckled. "There's no case, trust me. I just wanted to tell you I'm not coming into the office today."

"Are you okay?" Rossi's voice sounded more awake now.

"I'm fine. I just need a little time to myself after the last few days, and I have a lot to digest. Can you fill in for me today? I promise I will be in tomorrow."

"No problem. But you're sure you're all right? Jack's all right?"

Hotch smirked. Rossi was like a dog with a bone. "Yes and yes. Everybody's fine. Just let the team know I'm taking a vacation day."

"No problem-o. If you need more time take it. We'll hold down the fort for you."

"Here's hoping Strauss won't…"

"Don't worry about her. I'll handle Strauss."

Hotch chuckled. "If you say so. Thanks, Dave."

"You're welcome. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

After hanging up the receiver, the young agent made his way down stairs and into the kitchen. He tossed the journal onto the kitchen table before he prepared the coffee pot and started it. When he opened his fridge, he discovered the pizza box from the night before and took it out. Not in the mood to cook as his son wasn't home, Hotch removed three slices of cold pizza. He put them on a microwavable dish, and put the dish in the microwave oven. After a few minutes, Hotch was seated at the kitchen table with a cup of hot coffee and three slices of reheated pizza.

* * *

 _ **(The Following Day – After Roll Call):**_

Hogan, Carter, and Olsen were seated at the table drinking coffee. No one spoke as each man was lost in his own thoughts about the upcoming mission later tonight. A groan from behind them had the trio look over at the man lying on Carter's bunk.

"Hey, Kinch," Hogan said with a smile seeing his second-in-command's eyes open a crack. They all agreed that the radioman seemed to be doing better. The trio got to their feet and approached the bunk. Hogan sat beside his friend while Olsen and Carter stood nearby at the head of the bunk. The colonel adjusted the blanket pulling it up under Kinch's chin making sure he stayed warm.

"Colonel…" Kinch replied weakly. He feebly tried to sit up, but the officer gently pushed him back down on the bed. The black man didn't protest.

"How d'ya feel, buddy?" asked Carter studying the older man.

"Sore. Sir, are Newkirk, LeBeau and Hotchner safe? Did they get away?"

Hogan's eyes shifted to the others before he looked back at Kinch. He understood he had to be careful as to how much he told the ailing man.

But despite his injury, Kinch sensed his commander's hesitance to answer right away as a sign something had gone wrong. His eyes narrowed.

"Colonel...tell me…please. I need to know they're all right."

"Newkirk, LeBeau and Hotchner were captured by the same Gestapo who shot you," Hogan explained carefully. He watched Kinch and waited for his reaction. He didn't have long to wait.

"Cap…captured, Colonel?"

Kinch swallowed the growing lump in his throat. Also, the throbbing in the back of his shoulder intensified and now became a dull ache. His eyes sought those of Hogan.

"Sir, we have to get them back! You have to do something! If Hochstetter…" He was starting to panic and become agitated. The officer gently gripped both shoulders and hopefully calm him.

"Take it easy," the officer explained. "The guys are alive, and we're going to get them back tonight. I promise. And don't worry about Hochstetter. He won't be a problem."

Kinch grinned a weak grin. "Guess I'm gonna miss all the fun, huh?" The corners of his mouth turned upside down showing his unhappiness.

The colonel smirked. "Take it from me, you won't be missing much if anything. All you need to do is rest and get well."

Hogan felt his friend's body relax hearing those words but not completely. But he forced a smile to his face. He was glad when he saw a smile appear on Kinch's face.

"I believe you, sir," Kinch said starting to slur his words and his eyelids became heavy. Soon his eyes closed and his breathing evened out as sleep took over and a gentle snoring could be heard.

"That's it," Hogan said as he slowly got to his feet. "Get some sleep, my friend. I promise you we'll get them back." He gestured for Carter and Olsen to join him at the table so Kinch could sleep.

"You think he'll be all right, Colonel?" asked Carter staring at the sleeping Kinch.

Hogan glanced at the radioman. "He'll be fine. He needs rest more than anything else right now." He looked at his watch. "We have a few hours before we have to change and get moving. Carter, Olsen, get some rest for now. We'll have a long night ahead of us."

* * *

Hochstetter stormed into the Munich train station again causing people to get out of his way, and move as far away from him as they could. He marched right up to the ticket booth glaring at the Ticketmaster the entire time. Only this time it was not the same Ticketmaster as earlier. He marched right up to the ticket booth and slammed his gloved fist on the counter causing the man behind the counter to jump.

"Where is the man who was here yesterday?!" Hochstetter snarled.

"Herr Hoffman, major?"

"If that is his name. Where is he?!"

The man swallowed the building lump in his throat. He had heard about this annoying little man from Wagner Hoffman before he came on duty.

"He…he is off today, Herr Major. Perhaps I can help you?"

"And who the hell are you?!"

"I am Ruger Schmidt, major. Perhaps I can…"

Hochstetter again slammed his fist down on the counter and glared at the man.

"I demand the train from here go directly to Hammelburg! It is urgent that I return there as soon-as-possible!"

"I…I'm sorry, but we have no train going directly from here to Hammelburg. But we do have a train that will take you to Stuttgart and from there you can take a train to Hammelburg. That is the best we can do. I am sorry, sir."

Hochstetter growled so loud the man bit his lower lip, fearing the Gestapo major was about to go ballistic on him.

"I don't _want or need_ your apology, Dummkopf! When is the next train to Stuttgart?!"

"Einen Moment, bitte," Schmidt answered checking his schedule. Then with a sigh, he looked at the German officer sadly. (1)

" _Well?!"_

"I'm sorry, but the train to Stuttgart is an hour late. There is nothing I can do, Herr Major."

" _I am surrounded by idiots!"_ The major growled and stormed away from the counter. He was beyond livid. Papa Bear was waiting for him in one of his detention cells in Gestapo Headquarters and he couldn't wait to interrogate Hogan. But he had no choice but to wait. And waiting was not something Hochstetter did well.

* * *

Morgan looked up when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. It was Rossi heading to his office carrying his own briefcase. He waited until the senior agent settled behind his desk preparing to begin his day's work. He got up from his own desk and hurried up the steps leading to the catwalk and strolled briskly to Rossi's office. The man's door was open, and Morgan saw the older man busy studying an open case file. He rapped once on the door to alert the man he was present.

Rossi, sensing the bald agent's presence, looked up pausing in his work. He leaned back in his chair.

"I know what you want to talk with me about," Rossi said. He waited for the other man to reply.

"I noticed Hotch isn't in his office. He's usually the first one here, and the team was concerned," he said standing in front of Rossi's desk.

The corners of Rossi's mouth curled upward. "And you were elected to ask me if I know where our fearless leader is. Am I right?" He arched both eyebrows.

Morgan seemed embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Kinda," he muttered. "So, is he okay?"

"Hotch is fine, trust me. He called me earlier this morning and told me he wouldn't be in today. He just needs to come to grips with what he's found out so far, nothing more."

"So he's really okay then?"

A slow smile crossed Rossi's face. "I swear on the grave of my Aunt Sophia…may she rest in peace."

Morgan chuckled. "I'll ah…I'd better get back to work then," he said sheepishly.

Rossi smirked as Morgan started toward the open door. He waited until the bald agent reached the doorway.

"Morgan…."

Derek turned his head and looked back at the older man.

"You can tell the others that Hotch just took a personal day and he's fine." He grinned at the black man.

Morgan studied the senior agent for a moment then shook his head before he walked out of the office and back to his own desk. After he left, Rossi sighed and stared into space thinking about his best friend's situation. He remembered what he had found in his day planner and hoped he could share a little good news with his Unit Chief. Grabbing his briefcase off the floor, he opened it and removed his day planner then put the still open briefcase on top of his desk. He opened the name section to the letter 'H' and found Hogan's name, then grabbed his receiver. He glanced at the phone number before he pressed the same digits while pressing the receiver to his ear and waited while it rang on the other end.

He was about to hang up after the fourth ring when there was a click on the other end.

"Hogan residence," said a female voice.

Rossi was thrown for a second not expecting a woman, but he quickly recovered.

"Hello, my name is David Rossi. May I speak with Bobby Hogan please?" He didn't want to sound too hopeful and be disappointed, nor did he want to alarm the woman by announcing he was FBI.

"I'm sorry. What did you say your name was again?"

"David Rossi. May I ask with whom I'm speaking?"

"My name is Sandra Hogan. Bobby is my brother."

"It's important that I speak with your brother. Is he there?"

"I'm sorry, but he and his wife are out of town. They went away for two weeks on a cruise as a second honeymoon. They won't be back for about a week. I'm just caring for the dogs while they're gone. Can I take a message?"

Rossi let out a deep breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He couldn't admit he was disappointed. He gave Sandra his cell number.

"Tell him David Rossi called. He knows me. Just tell him I need for him to call me back as soon as he gets this message. It's important that I speak with him."

"I promise as soon as I hear from my brother I'll give him your message."

"Thank you, Sandra. Goodbye."

Rossi hung up the receiver and sighed again, this time with disappointment. He'd have to wait a few days to find out if this Bobby Hogan was who he hoped. Until then, he have to keep this information to himself and that meant he couldn't let Hotch know. He returned the day planner back in his briefcase, and put the briefcase back on the floor after securing the latch. He went back to his case files.

* * *

 _ **(Same Day – Mid Afternoon):**_

The day seemed to drag as far as Hogan and his men were concerned. The colonel, Garlotti, and Olsen were sitting at the table, trying not to look bored. Hogan had checked his watch and rolled his eyes. He was anxious to get the show on the road. He glanced over at Kinch who was laying on his back in bed with Carter seated next to him holding a worn paperback book in his hands. He was reading to the radioman hoping to keep the man relaxed and so he would not worry so much as it would not help in his recovery.

Wilson had stopped by an hour earlier to check on Kinch's recovery and change the bandages. Overall, the camp medic was quite pleased which pleased Hogan and the men of barracks two. Wilson promised he would tell Klink that several of the men were doing better than others. But most were still pretty sick, and that the quarantine needed to be maintained for now.

Hogan finished his lukewarm coffee and slowly got to his feet. He glanced at his men.

"Carter, you, Garlotti, and Olsen better get all the rest you can because in a few hours we need to get ready for a long night. I'm going to my quarters for awhile."

"Yes, sir," the three men responded as one and watched the colonel as he entered his quarters and closed the door.

Right now, Hogan needed to be alone with his thoughts.

The officer stretched out on the lower bunk with both hands behind his head and staring up at the underside of the bunk above him. Right now a lot of things were running through his mind, none of which gave his mind any peace. He closed his eyes hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep as it was going to be a long night.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

With a sigh, Hotch closed the journal and leaned back in his chair with arms folded across his chest. What he had just read had given him something more to think about as well.

* * *

(1) "Einen Moment, bitte" means "One moment, please," via & Google Translate.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

 _ **(Late Evening):**_

Hogan, Garlotti, Carter, and Olsen were busy in the dressing room changing into Gestapo uniforms. Hogan of course, stayed a colonel. Carter a major, Olsen a corporal, and Garlotti a private. As Hogan checked his sidearm to make sure it was loaded and operational, he thought about what had transpired so far.

Prust called him back earlier, and the doctor promised he will be available. He had been in surgery earlier when the phone call for him came in, and he 'needed' to stay and 'keep an eye' on said patient. Hogan glanced at the three men with him as they changed clothes and sighed. Everything depended on timing and that there be no surprises.

The officer focused on Olsen. "Where did you park the truck?"

Olsen glanced at Hogan. "In the woods a mile from camp, sir."

"Good," Hogan replied nodding his approval.

"How much did it cost us per mile?" asked Carter innocently.

"The guard at the motor pool wanted twenty cents per mile?"

Carter was horrified. "Twenty cents?! That's highway robbery."

"You're telling me," Olsen concurred. "I managed to convince him to accept fifteen cents per mile."

Hogan rolled his eyes. "That's enough you guys. There's no time to worry over trivial things. We'll handle things with the overpricing later." As he tucked his sidearm into its holster, he watched Garlotti slide the shoulder strap of his rifle onto his shoulder. Olsen and Carter both slid their side arms into their holsters. Hogan took one last look at the men standing in front of him. It was now or never. "Let's go," he ordered and led the way out of the changing room with his men behind him.

The rescue mission was now underway, and there was no way to predict who might be left standing when the dust settled.

* * *

The guys steadily made their way through the woods until they came across the parked truck. Garlotti got behind the wheel with Hogan beside him. Olsen and Carter in the back with the curtain covering a small window pulled back. This was so Olsen and Carter could speak with the men in the front seats.

As Garlotti drove along the dirt road, Hogan stared absentmindedly out the open front passenger window reflecting. He went over in his mind if he had overlooked anything or done anything differently.

" _If I went with the guys when they went to carry out the sabotage,"_ he told himself. _"Kinch would not be be wounded right now, and the others captured."_ He massaged his forehead. _"It's all my fault this happened. I'm responsible and nobody else. I'm responsible for us being in this position. I should be the one in a Gestapo prison cell right now, not LeBeau, Newkirk and Hotchner. Me."_ He leaned the back of his head against the headrest and let out a deep breath.

" _What if Hochstetter shows up before we free the guys? What do I do then? Do I kill the major, or do I send him to London? And what about Fuchs? If need be can I kill him? He's not only an ally, but a really good friend. How can I even make that choice? Do I have the right to kill him as a way to save his life if everything goes to hell? Am I doing the right thing by agreeing that Hotchner is expendable if things go south? Do I have the right to condemn one of my own men to possible death if necessary? How could I even agree to that? How?"_ He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He let out a deep sigh. "What _are the men going to think if they find out I am willing to sacrifice one of them to save a German? They're going to hate me. They'll never trust me again, and I wouldn't blame them. Right now I hate myself."_

Hogan's body jerked when he felt a hand grip his shoulder and shake it. He opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to find Olsen staring at him. The man's brown eyes met Hogan's and the colonel saw nothing but understanding in them.

"Stop blaming yourself, sir," Olsen said. "There was nothing you could have done. These are the risks we take with these missions."

"It'll be okay, Colonel," Carter replied softly. "We'll get the guys back. You'll see."

The young sergeant smiled sadly as Hogan looked at him. Carter's eyes held the same understanding that Olsen's did. He smiled faintly at the young man.

"Thank you, both of you," Hogan replied quietly. "You don't know how much I needed to hear that."

* * *

Fuchs glanced at the clock on his office wall and let out a deep breath. He stared absentmindedly at the closed door as his mind was racing. He was well aware that Hogan and his men were on their way, and in fact would arrive shortly. At around 6:00 pm, he had sent Schneider home to get some rest with orders to check with the train station in Hammelburg. The corporal had phoned him about 7:00 pm, and reported that the train to Hammelburg would arrive on time, and that he would be waiting at Hammelburg station.

Another worry was suppose, just suppose, something happened and the train arrived ahead of schedule? What would he do if his boss arrived early? He was aware that if Hochstetter arrived before Hogan got his men out, they would all be dead. In addition, he himself would be branded a traitor, tortured, and killed only after he saw his wife and infant son killed in front of him. None of this was pleasant.

The officer squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as a sickening thought came to him.

" _Both Hogan and Hochstetter are my best friends. If it comes down to it, who do I kill to save the other? And how do I live with the consequences of that decision?"_ He opened his eyes again as a new thought occurred to him. _"I mean, if Hogan's and Hochstetter's ideology of the war was the same, the decision wouldn't need to be made. If the two men met anywhere else, at any other time, without the war, they'd likely be the closest of friends. They have no idea how similar they truly are. How do I chose between two good men? Hogan's men would follow him through hell. So would Hochstetter's men. Both have proven it as we all walk through hell in this war. I've followed Hochstetter through hell. Who do I choose?"_

The German found himself both worried and relieved about two things however. Relieved that he had been able to get the three rogue soldiers to come into Gestapo Headquarters. Then assign them to duties that would make sure they stayed in the building when Hogan arrived.

" _Sergeant Dailus von Eisenburg is monitoring the patrols in the field in case back-up is needed,"_ he told himself. _"Corporal Erik Braun and Private Joachim Vogel are standing guard outside the cell containing the prisoners. As long as they stay where I assigned them, everything should go as planned."_ (1)

And worried that six hours ago he had given Hotchner the last injection of the sedative he had been given by Prust. And he was fearful as it would start to wear off in six more hours. What would he do if it wore off while Hochstetter was present?

But despite these concerns, he let out a deep breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, and figured the best thing he could do for now was stay calm.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal, then his eyes, and massaged them. He was tired and now had given himself more to think about. He finally understood why Fuchs made the decision he had about his grandfather and had comes to terms with it, and why Hogan had agreed with it. It would be the same decision he himself would make if he had been in the same situation. In fact, a line from a popular Star Trek movie he had watched with Jack, came to mind.

' _The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.'_ (2)

And in this case, Hotch realized the needs of countless others depended on his grandfather keeping his mouth closed. Included also was the life of an infant that depended on the silence. And all these lives outweighed the needs of his grandfather. He then looked over at a photo of a smiling Jack on the table. And wasn't the life of an innocent child what mattered most of all?

He picked up the journal despite his tiredness, and opened it to resume reading.

* * *

 _ **(Five Minutes Later):**_

LeBeau and Newkirk studied each other as they sat on the floor having decided to let Hotchner have the bunk because of his injuries. But they made certain they kept an eye on their injured friend as he slept, aware that Bluebird had given him a third injection several hours ago. Since then, the duo hadn't spoken a word to each other about anything since their cell was bugged.

"I'm tellin' you, once this Major Hochstetter gets here, we're gonna be in deep trouble. Even more so once he finds out he doesn't have this Colonel Hogan in custody."

"Seems our only hope is that by some miracle he finds out before he comes. Maybe he won't even come. I mean we heard one of the guards say he was away on leave, so maybe he'll stay away until his leave is over."

Newkirk smirked. "One can hope at least."

LeBeau glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping Hotchner. He listened to the man's gentle but ragged breathing. Concerned, the Frenchman studied the Englander's face and noticed the same worried expression.

"He is resting peacefully right now. But his breathing scares me," he said.

The Englander let out a deep breath and shook his head slowly. He then rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at Hotchner before looking at LeBeau.

"I'll tell you something. I'd much rather prefer our mate be cared for by a doctor instead of being locked up in this bleedin' dump."

LeBeau sighed. "These filthy Bosche don't care. But at least he can get some rest before Major Hochstetter comes. Because I sure won't."

"You mean we won't, don't you?"

"I didn't want to speak for you," LeBeau answered.

Newkirk rolled his eyes skyward. "This is no time to get considerate."

"I am not being considerate."

Newkirk snickered. "This is no time to lie to me either."

* * *

Major Hochstetter glared out of the window of the train as it roared along the tracks en-route to Hammelburg. He was grateful that the train from Stuttgart to Hammelburg had been waiting at the station when the train from Munich arrived at the Stuttgart station. Impatient during the long ride, he let his imagination take over full time. It was a fantasy of him standing in front of a bruised, battered, and bleeding Hogan. He imagined the American sitting bound tightly to a chair in a cell surrounded by armed guards.

" _Answer my questions, Hogan! Tell me what I want to know and I promise you the end will be quick, along with those of your men."_

 _Hogan looked up at the Gestapo Major with disdain. "Go to hell, Major!" Every word and motion caused extreme agony for the American._

 _Hochstetter chuckled. "You will get there before me, Hogan. And this time your bumbling, stupid Kommandant Klink can't save you. And who knows, he may join you in front of the firing squad."_

The Gestapo Major grinned a twisted grin as he continued to stare out the window. He smirked at the great pleasure the fantasy gave him. Just the thought of finally proving to his superiors that he had been right about Hogan all along excited him, and would be the icing on his cake. And added to that, he would prove Klink's 'no escape' record was a fraud. He knew Hogan ran Stalag 13 and was the real reason no prisoners escaped unless with the American's help. In fact, maybe he should have the entire camp sanitized instead.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal again and let out a deep breath. He understood more than he had earlier. He was aware that a lot of Fuchs' records were lost, misfiled or destroyed. But he had to wonder if there were any survivors from the German's family that he could contact for answers.

Garcia had found that the German had married a Jewish girl named Lilly, and had a son named David. It was possible the pair had had more children even though there was no record of that. Hotch estimated from what his tech analyst had uncovered, Fuchs and Lilly had married young and started a family soon after that. But if David were their only child, and still alive, he probably had his own children and maybe grandchildren by now. But how could that be if Garcia had found the entire family had died in a bombing?

Yet, considering what Hogan did while imprisoned in Stalag 13, Hotch didn't think it far-fetched that Fuchs' death and that of his entire family might have been faked. They'd seen it before in their own line of work; serial killers faking their own deaths as a means of trying to avoid the authorities. Could that be what Fuchs had done after the war as a way to escape being arrested by those who might not accept his having helped the Allies and want him dead? And did Hogan help him accomplish that? He decided he'd need to have Garcia check into it and perhaps find out the truth if possible.

First thing he'd have her check for is anything on David Fuchs or anybody in the Fuchs family on either side. The chances were slim, but with Garcia searching, anything was possible.

Aaron's eyes narrowed and his forehead creased as he ran something else through his mind. Hogan was military as were his sons and grandsons. And it was obvious to him and his team that the offspring of Kinchloe as well were military. What if the answers he sought were still considered classified and unattainable for now? Was he willing to wait until things were declassified and then seek the answers he waited so long for? He told himself if he had waited this long for answers, he was willing to wait a bit longer if necessary. He opened the journal and decided to resume reading.

* * *

 _ **(A Short Time Later):**_

Garlotti parked the truck outside Gestapo Headquarters and let the engine run. He exchanged looks with Hogan who looked at him, then over his shoulder at the others. He turned back to Garlotti.

"Stay with the truck and keep the engine running. We're going to need to move fast once we get the guys out."

"Yes, sir," said Garlotti.

Hogan glanced back at the others. "Carter, Olsen, come with me. Hopefully we won't have any problems, so stay sharp."

"Yes, sir," Carter said as he started to exit the back of the truck. "I mean…Jawohl, Herr Colonel," he said with a grin.

Olsen shook his head as he climbed out of the truck and stood beside Carter. Hogan glared at his young sergeant at the same time as he straightened his outer coat.

"Carter, don't overplay your part," Hogan chastised him.

"I won't, Colonel. I'm just getting into my role so I'll be ready is all."

"We only have to convince three Kraut guards we're Germans. Bluebird will handle the rest. You're not trying for an Academy Award," Hogan said sharply (3)

"Yes, sir," Carter replied sadly. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Now let's get going. We have a tight schedule to keep."

That being said, Hogan strode determinedly into Gestapo Headquarters with Olsen and Carter close behind him.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch shut the journal again and sat it on the table. He then got to his feet and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Exhaustion was taking control of his tired body, and he needed sleep. He was exhausted right now and needed to get some rest. He stretched his body out on his bed and closed his eyes. Soon sleep overcame him.

* * *

(1) The name Dailus means bold and materialistic but rigid. Has strong will power. Loves power, authority, and leadership. Tenacious and ambitious.

(2) The Wrath of Khan was released in 1982. That line was from an exchange between Spock and Kirk after Spock sacrificed himself to radiation to save the others on the Enterprise.

(3) The Academy Awards were first presented in 1929 at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

Hotch awoke during the early evening. At first somewhat disoriented, but that soon passed. Now much more rested, he sat up on the edge of the bed, and ran a hand over his messy black hair. He got to his feet before he trudged out of his bedroom to return downstairs.

Once he reached the kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and frowned. He told himself he really needed to go grocery shopping. But with Jack being away, and alone in the apartment, he found himself ordering out more and not bothering cooking. As the refrigerator was somewhat empty of food, he left it that way. With a sigh, he closed the refrigerator door deciding to skip dinner. Instead, he plugged in the coffee maker. A few minutes later the coffee maker issued an alert to the coffee being ready. He poured himself a cup of the hot brew, walked out of the kitchen, grabbed the journal, and sat in his recliner.

* * *

 _ **(Same Day – A Few Minutes Later):**_

With the posture and carriage of an arrogant German officer, Hogan entered Gestapo Headquarters. Spotting the guard at the information desk, he strode toward him, with Carter and Olsen close behind him. He sensed this was one of the men who arrested three of his men and wounded Kinch.

Von Eisenburg looked up the moment he noticed the three men approaching. His eyes stared at the man in front. The tall man had short dark hair, thick glasses, and a mustache. But that wasn't what caught his attention. His blue eyes met the brown ones of Hogan.

"You find me fascinating, sergeant?" Hogan asked with a smirk.

Von Eisenburg swallowed the lump in his throat. "I did not mean to stare, Herr Colonel. I noticed your scar." Hogan chuckled.

"It had been given to me by someone foolish enough to challenge me to a duel. Needless to say he lost." Von Eisenburg swallowed nervously.

"How can I help you, sir?" he asked.

"I am Colonel Hoganmueller. This is Major Berger, and Corporal Schmidt. Where might we find your commanding officer?" (1) Hogan watched as the sergeant looked past him and glanced at the others. "Your commanding officer, sergeant?" he repeated harshly. The colonel had already made up his mind he didn't like this man, and made no attempt to hide his dislike.

"That is Captain Fuchs. I cannot leave my post but I can direct you to his office."

Hogan nodded slightly. "I admire a man who does not vacate his post or disobeys orders. Now, where might I find this Captain Fuchs?"

But before von Eisenburg could respond, the man being discussed appeared. Fuchs studied Hogan giving no indication of recognition and then at his sergeant.

"I had left my office and heard voices, sergeant. Is there a problem?"

Hogan held out his hand to Fuchs. "I am Colonel Hoganmueller." He shook hands with Bluebird.

Fuchs nodded. "I am Captain Fuchs. I am acting for Major Hochstetter who is away." He glanced at Carter and Olsen. "And who are the gentlemen with you, Colonel?"

Hogan introduced the others. "We have come all the way from Berlin after we received a daily report from your sergeant here about three prisoners in your custody, one of which is the notorious Papa Bear."

Out of the corner of his eye, Hogan spotted the sergeant open his mouth and start to say something; but so did Bluebird. The German officer glared at von Eisenburg offering a silent warning for him to remain silent. He was glad he had stopped the sergeant's report from being sent to Berlin and altered it to indicate the three prisoners were unknown and were brought in for questioning. He omitted any names of the prisoners before he added his own signature and sent it to headquarters.

The sergeant closed his mouth. He was already in trouble having mistaken one of the prisoners for Hogan and didn't want to add to his troubles. But he kept listening closely to the conversation. Maybe the captain might cover for him after all and he might still get out of this mess before Hochstetter returned.

"Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere, Colonel," Fuchs suggested his blue eyes never leaving the sergeant's face the entire time.

"As you wish."

Issuing a final look at the sergeant, Bluebird gestured for Hogan and the others to follow him which they did. Once he was positive they were out of hearing range of the sergeant, Hogan took Bluebird's arm stopping him. The German looked back at his friend.

"Is that sergeant one of the three men who arrested the guys?" he asked.

"He is. The other two, Private Vogel and Corporal Braun, I assigned to stand guard outside the cell in which your men are being held."

"Are they all right?" asked a worried Carter.

"Doctor Prust came out a second time to check on them. They are as well as can be expected considering."

"Considering what?"

Hogan glanced at his youngest member. "Carter…" he warned.

Carter chewed his lower lip and shifted his eyes to the floor. "Sorry, sir."

"Is there anyone else here?" asked Olsen.

"Nein. I made sure the three guards stayed here and did not leave the building."

"Enough with the questions," Hogan warned his men. "We have a tight schedule, and we don't know if Hochstetter will come back early. It's time to get this show on the road."

Nodding, Fuchs turned away, and continued on to the cell area. No further words were exchanged as each man was lost in his own thoughts.

After a few minutes, the men spotted the guards posted on each side of a cell. And even though Hogan didn't see them, he could sense the tension of the men behind him. He glanced back at the others for a moment offering a silent reassurance. He then faced forward.

The two guards spotted Fuchs and came to attention right away. They hadn't as yet noticed Hogan and the others as they were behind the German officer. Each man saluted the captain who returned their salute. He then stood aside so the others behind him could be seen out right.

"This is Colonel Hoganmueller, Major Berger, and Corporal Schmidt from Berlin. They are here about the prisoners."

"How come we never heard your name before, Colonel?" asked Braun as he tightened his grip on his rifle. Something felt off to him. He stared intently at Hogan as if his appearance was familiar somehow.

Bluebird opened his mouth about to respond, but Carter stepped forward first. He glared at the guard.

" _How dare you speak to Colonel Hoganmueller that way, corporal?!"_ he raised his voice in a menacing tone.

The corporal continued studying Hogan. It bothered him greatly that he couldn't recall where he had seen this man.

Hogan held up his hand stopping Carter's tirade. They didn't have time for this. Also, he began to suspect this man might have recognized him somehow despite his disguise. But it was too late to pull the plug on the mission. If they did, they would not get another chance to save the guys and their operation. "It's all right, major. Corporal, let me assure you may not be one much longer. Are you always so rude to senior officers?" he hissed.

"Nein, Herr Colonel. I only meant…"

"I don't _care_ what you meant! I assure you that you will know all about me before you head to the Russian Front! Unless I decide to have you shot instead!" Braun started to open his mouth. "I suggest you not talk right now, corporal, as your mouth seems to be faster than your brain at the moment."

"I apologize, Herr Colonel." Braun wasn't really apologizing but was hoping to allow himself some time for him to remember where he had seen this man.

Hogan nodded at Fuchs who was glaring at the corporal with intense anger. Like Hogan, he suspected the corporal might have recognized the American officer. He needed to put the fear of God into this man to hopefully draw his attention away from concentrating on Hogan and wrecking their rescue attempt.

"Corporal, after the Colonel and I conclude our business, you will report to my office. We will have a long talk about courtesy to one's superior officers. Then I will decide your punishment."

"Jawohl, Herr Captain."

Hogan knew he needed to speed things up as these delays were causing problems they didn't need or want. He glanced at Carter. "Major, I want to question all three of these men regarding the prisoners. Return upstairs and have Sergeant von Eisenburg join us." He needed to get all three men together in one place quickly and to stall until Carter got back with the sergeant.

Carter saluted. "As you wish, sir." Then he turned and hurried away on his assigned task. He didn't notice Braun was again staring at the colonel intently as he hurried away.

Hogan clasped his hands behind him and stared at Vogel. "Tell me, private, were you and the corporal in on the capture of Papa Bear?"

"Jawohl, Colonel."

Hogan smiled. "You are a brave man. I hear this Papa Bear has been called the most dangerous man in Germany. There will probably be a promotion in this for you and the corporal for capturing him."

Vogel's eyes widened. "A promotion, sir?"

"Such bravery should not go unrewarded. I'm sure your captain will agree."

"I do, sir," Fuchs replied. "Sergeant von Eisenburg led these men in this capture."

"Then he too shall get what he deserves," Hogan said with a glance at Fuchs who understood exactly to what Hogan was referring.

Just then footsteps were heard approaching. Hogan looked around as did the others to see the German sergeant approaching with Carter behind him.

As they were approaching, Braun continued watching Hogan. Somehow he didn't remember this man having a scar. It bothered him that he couldn't remember where he had seen this man. And one thing he hated was not being able to recall something or someone.

"Colonel, Sergeant von Eisenburg as ordered," Carter explained.

"Danke, major." Hogan focused on the sergeant. "I understand from your captain that you led these men in the capture of Papa Bear. You are to be congratulated."

"Danke, sir. I was just doing my job as a German soldier."

"As I was just telling these other two men and your captain, all three of you will get exactly what you deserve for this."

Von Eisenburg stared at Hogan, surprised. A promotion? It had to be what the colonel was talking about.

Maybe it was possible that if Berlin believed the American sergeant in custody was indeed Hogan, it wouldn't matter what Hochstetter thought. He saw his chances improving even more.

"Danke, sir."

"You're welcome, sergeant."

Braun wasn't really listening anymore. In the deep recesses of his mind, a memory was bursting forth. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Hogan and then it came to him. Suddenly his eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. He remembered exactly where he had seen this man before, and he wasn't a German officer either.

"I know where I've seen you before,' he sneered with disgust. "You're that American Colonel from Stalag 13!"

That's when all hell broke loose.

Braun started to lift his rifle, but Olsen was quicker as he pulled his sidearm, safety off, and aimed it at the corporal.

"I wouldn't, Corporal," he warned. "Drop the rifle and raise your hands!" The corporal did as he was ordered.

Von Eisenburg immediately caught on to what was happening, and yanked his sidearm from its holster and pointed it at Hogan's head, his finger on the trigger. But Carter grabbed his arm from behind the man trying to disarm the sergeant. He was startled by the sudden turn of events, but only for a second or two. The two men wrestled over the weapon. Hogan hurried forward to give whatever help he could to Carter as the young sergeant struggled with his larger and taller opponent.

Fuchs pulled his sidearm and shook his head as Vogel was raising his weapon.

"Nein, private," he warned, blue eyes blazing. He gestured for the young man to drop his rifle, and like Braun, raise his hands. The private readily complied.

As Carter and von Eisenburg continued struggling the German sergeant kept a tight grip on his weapon. He would not allow the smaller American to take it away from him. Using a superhuman effort, he managed to point his weapon back in Hogan's direction. All the while, Carter still tried to get the weapon away from the man without it discharging. Seizing this opportunity, Hogan drew back his fist preparing to deliver a blow to the man's jaw.

Suddenly the sound of the sergeant's gun going off shattered the air followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

* * *

Hotch closed the journal and let out a deep breath. What he had read just now really didn't surprise him as to how far Hogan would go to save his men. But what did surprise him to a degree was how far Fuchs was willing to go to help Hogan save his men and keep his promise to the American officer.

He opened the journal again and started reading from where he had left off.

* * *

(1) Hogan occasionally used the name 'Hoganmueller' when impersonating a German officer in the series.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

 _ **(Shortly Afterward):**_

Everyone froze at the sound of the gunshot as it reverberated throughout the cell location. In addition, nobody grasped what took place as it happened so quickly and without warning.

Carter's eyes widened with horror as both he and the injured man glanced at the blood on the man's chest. Even von Eisenburg whose gun fired the shot, froze and stared with the sudden turn of events. Carter watched the wounded man's knees buckle as blood continued to spurt from the hole in the center of the man's chest. The man fell slowly in what seemed like slow motion to his knees before he landed sideways onto the floor blood started pooling around his body.

Carter swallowed the growing lump in his throat as the shock of what happened began to fade. He refused to accept what had just happened.

" _No!"_ he shouted. " _Colonel!"_

* * *

Inside the cell, Newkirk and LeBeau stared at each other with eyes widened in horror and fear at the echoing sound of the gunshot. For despite being in a cell with a locked iron door, the voices outside were audible as was the gunshot.

The voices told them the guys had come to rescue them. But then the gunshot caused them to panic as it made them realize something had gone terribly wrong. Problem was they refused to consider what had happened or who had been shot. But when they heard Carter scream, they freaked.

"Mon Dieu!" LeBeau gasped staring at the Englander. "You don't suppose…"

"Your guess is as good as mine, mate," Newkirk replied nervously interrupting him to keep him from disclosing something important as he studied the iron door. Despite fearing what might have happened, he didn't forget the cell was bugged, and neither did LeBeau forget either. "Right now I don't even want to imagine something goin' wrong."

But despite what he had told the Frenchman, Newkirk understood he didn't have any choice _but_ to let the matter weigh on him. Carter sounded terrified. And for his best friend to sound terrified only mean one thing; that something gone wrong.

" _Please don't let the Gov'nor die!"_ Newkirk told himself. " _I can't handle goin' on after this if the Gov'nor died!"_

LeBeau looked up at the ceiling and repeatedly blinked his eyes hoping to keep his tears at bay. He felt if something terrible had happened, he'd have time later to cry. But all he could do for now was try and remain strong.

Both men glanced at the sleeping Hotchner and with an exchange of looks, and found themselves glad the unconscious man had no idea what had taken place within earshot.

* * *

Hotch closed the journal and got to his feet. He needed a break from reading for the moment, and figured he would look through the documents Garcia had found for him. As he started upstairs, he heard his cell phone ringing. He hurried up the stairs, and into his bedroom where he had left his cell on its charger. Taking a seat on the edge of his bed, he grabbed the cell despite it being plugged into the charger and glanced at the name on the Caller ID. He rolled his eyes before he put the cell to his ear.

"Hotchner."

"What took you so long? Did I interrupt something I hope?" the cocky voice said.

Hotch sighed. Even though he couldn't see him in person, he could picture the man's smug expression.

"Dave, if you were in front of me right now, I'd smack that smug grin off your face."

Rossi chuckled. "Then I'm glad I'm not in front of you right now."

"Also, get your mind out of the gutter. I was in the living room, and my cell is in my bedroom upstairs."

"If you say so, but that's not why I called."

"So why did you call?"

"Penelope paid me a visit a few minutes ago. She had something to show me that might be of interest to you."

Hotch crossed his long legs. Maybe he wouldn't have to call the tech analyst after all.

"What did she find?"

"First, and don't get your boxers in a twist. She did this before working hours."

"She did what before working hours?"

"She decided on her own to try and see if she could find anything on Fuchs' or Lilly's families."

"Did she?"

"Not even a marriage license. Or as Kitten says 'Nada,' 'Zip,' 'Zero.'"

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"Sounds like you didn't expect she would."

"To be honest, I would have been stunned if she had…" Hotch let out a breath and scratched his head.

"So what d'ya want to do now?" Hotch took so long to answer that Rossi thought the call had been disconnected. "Aaron, you still there?"

"Sorry, I was thinking and zoned out for a couple of seconds. What was it you said?"

"I asked what you wanted to do now."

"I want you to have Garcia do something for me so I don't have to contact her."

"What is it you need, my friend?"

"I need Garcia do a special search for me. Have her first check for all Germans who assisted the Allies during the war, and then left Germany to relocate to another country when the war ended."

"What are you hoping she'll find?" Rossi was puzzled.

"I'm not really sure. She might not find anything. But something occurred to me as I was reading the journal and feel it might be worth looking into."

"And what was that?"

"Well, we know what Hogan was capable of during the war. So…what if he was able to fake the deaths of Fuchs and his family and get them out of Germany."

Now it was Rossi's turn to remain silent for a few seconds.

"Dave?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Are you hoping Kitten can find out if Fuchs and his family were relocated to another country by Hogan?"

"That's exactly what I'm hoping if I'm right in my assumption. But I realize even if she can, it still might not be of any help. It's possible if what I suspect is true, his name might have been changed as well which will make it harder to find him. But I need to have her try anyhow. We might be lucky."

"True," Rossi admitted. "Besides, you know that old saying…it's better to have tried and failed then never to have tried at all."

Hotch chuckled. "You've been hanging around Reid too much. You're starting to get philosophical on me."

"And you're developing a sense of humor, I think. I've have Garcia call you after she's done her search."

"Thanks."

"And speaking of the journal, read anything good of late?"

"Matter of fact I did."

"Care to enlighten me?"

"Not right now. But all I can tell you is Hogan is carrying out his plan to rescue my grandfather and the others with Fuchs' help."

"Sounds exciting. How'd it turn out?"

"I don't know yet. But I promise we'll talk tomorrow when I come back to work and I'll let you know."

"You'd better or I'll track you down like an UnSub." Rossi imagined Hotch grinning on the other end and he himself smiled. "But seriously, I just wanted to make sure you're okay or see if you needed anything."

"I'm fine. I promise. Just have Garcia run that search I asked for and call me once she's done. But remind her to do it on her own time and not company time."

"I'll stand over her and give her one of your stares to make sure. Call me if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks. Bye, Dave." Aaron disconnected the call and returned the cell to his night stand so it could continue charging. Then, he got to his feet and approached his dresser. Pulling open the top drawer, he moved a couple of intimate items aside until he found the 8.5" manila envelope and removed it. He sat back down on the bed, and when he opened the envelope, removed copies of the research Garcia and the team had managed to find for him. It was time to take a close look again at what had been found. Also, time to see if there was anything that might aid him in his quest to find out more about the Fuchs family.

* * *

Garcia stared at her computer screen right after she hung up her phone from Rossi's call. Her fingers paused over the keyboard wondering exactly how she was going to find what Rossi said Hotch wanted. She wouldn't even know where much less how to begin her search. She chewed her thumbnail with elbows resting on the desk in front of the keyboard. She didn't want to ever disappoint Hotch under any circumstances. But all she had found earlier were death certificates for the entire Fuchs family. But her Bossman was counting on her to work her magic and give him something useful.

"Maybe I should get Boy Genius in here to help," she muttered partially to herself.

As if the answer to an unspoken prayer, the door to her office opened, and in walked Doctor Spencer Reid. Her lower jaw fell open and her eyes widened behind her glasses as she turned her chair round to face him.

"I don't believe it," she said staring at him.

Reid looked at her confused. "Don't believe what?"

"I wanted you to come here, and here you are in response to my wish. I guess my Genie must have been listening to me even without me rubbing a magic lamp."

Reid's eyes widened. He looked totally confused. "I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand, my junior G-man. And before you ask anymore dumb questions, I need that big ole brain of yours like pronto."

"For what?"

"Hotch has a request, and I have no idea how to even begin."

'What does he want?"

Garcia repeated the request Rossi had passed on to her from Hotch, and sat waiting for Reid's response. She didn't have long to wait. The young genius gripped the back of her chair, and spun it around so she now faced her computer screen, and stood behind her. He looked over her shoulder.

"I believe I can do that."

"I knew it," Garcia was excited as she again poised her finger over her keyboard. "Where do I need to look first?"

"Okay. Look for all Germans who left Germany after the war no matter what the reason."

"All-righty…" She typed and mumbled something under her breath unheard by Reid. A few seconds later she sighed. "Oh, this isn't good." Shown on the screen between 1944 and 1948 about 31 million Germans were temporarily or permanently moved.

"No it's not," Reid replied studying the screen.

"Is there any way to reduce it?"

"Not that I know of, Garcia. But let's try this angle. Go back and check how many of those Germans who left Germany did so to avoid arrest."

The tech analyst glanced over her shoulder into Reid's face. "But Fuchs wouldn't have been arrested. He was a good guy and helping the good guys."

Reid looked into her eyes. "When I say arrested, I meant arrested by the Germans. To them he was helping the enemy. And as far as they were concerned, that made him a traitor."

"Oh…right…" she quipped as she began typing. A few seconds later she shook her head. "Oh boy…I found an astronomical mass of humanity. I never realized how many Germans fled Germany after the war." Glancing over her shoulder again at Reid, she saw his eyes narrow as he bit his lower lip. What now?" she asked.

Reid let out a deep breath. For the first time in his young life, he was completely at a loss.

"C'mon, junior G-man, my break is nearly over."

"I hate to admit this, but for once I am completely at a loss as to where else to look," he explained.

* * *

In frustration, Hotch slammed down the papers he was holding on his bed.

Nothing he read had given him any clues about Fuchs or his wife's family.

Disappointed but not discouraged, he put the papers back in the envelope, and put the envelope back in the still open dresser drawer. Then he headed back downstairs where he had left the journal. Grabbing it, he settled his body back in his recliner, and elevated the foot rest. Then he opened the journal.

* * *

 _ **(Few Minutes Later):**_

" _Colonel!"_

Carter was unable to move as he stared at the body before him. The blood pool had become larger even as the blood flow itself began to slow and it was obvious the man was dead.

"Are you all right?" Hogan asked glancing at his teammate with worry. After the shooting, he had snatched the weapon out of von Eisenburg's hand, and tucked it into his own belt. The American officer then roughly seized the German sergeant and shoved him toward Fuchs who himself shoved the man against the wall beside Vogel. The German officer figured he and Olsen could watch the two men together leaving Hogan to deal with his own man.

Hogan rested a hand on Carter's shoulder. When he got no reaction, he gripped Carter's shoulder tighter.

"Look at me."

Carter slowly raised his head and looked into Hogan's eyes. The officer saw the grief in his eyes and understood Carter was punishing himself over the death.

"This is not your fault. Von Eisenburg gave you no choice. If you hadn't intervened, he might have killed me or one of the others. You saved the lives of everyone here. You did what had to be done."

Carter nodded slowly, avoiding looking at his commanding officer. He understood what Hogan was doing and appreciated it. It was just right now he didn't feel like a hero.

"I…I couldn't let him kill you, sir…" Carter said shakily. "And he would have killed you. I…I couldn't let him do that. I just couldn't. But that doesn't mean I wanted…"

Hogan nodded he understood. "I know you didn't. But this is war. Things happened over which we often have no control. Sometimes there's collateral damage and this is one of those times."

The corners of Carter's mouth slightly curled upward causing Hogan to smile.

"I guess so, Colonel."

"We can talk more about it later if you want. Right now, we need to get the guys and get out of here. We're already cutting things too close."

"Yes, sir. I'll be okay."

"Good man," said Hogan. He glanced at Olsen. "Get the keys to the cell and let's get the guys. I noticed them on the belt of the corporal."

Olsen knelt down and snatched the keys off the dead man's belt, quickly unlocked the iron door, and swung it open. He smiled widely when Newkirk and LeBeau smiled up at him.

"You guys all right?" he asked.

"Boy are we glad to see you guys," Newkirk said stiffly getting to his feet as did LeBeau. But despite the stiffness and bruises, both men were able to function. LeBeau stepped outside the cell then his eyes fell on Hogan. Newkirk knelt in front of Hotchner.

"Mon Colonel, we heard the gunshot and feared the worst," he said. "We are glad to see you still alive."

Hogan chuckled. "As they say, 'news of my death is greatly exaggerated." He handed LeBeau von Eisenburg's weapon. "Think you can handle this?"

LeBeau grinned as he aimed the weapon at the two guards. "Watch me," he said.

Hogan nodded and turned his attention to Newkirk. "How is he?" he asked glancing at Hotchner.

"His breathin's a bit ragged, sir. And I'm gonna need help carryin' him."

"Okay." Hogan looked at Olsen. "Help Newkirk."

Newkirk appeared somewhat panicked. "Sir, what about the bloody recording device? This here cell is bugged. They've been hearin' everything we said."

Fuchs chuckled. "Oh, I forgot. It seems that recorder had a problem. Some sort of malfunction that won't let it record anything."

The Englander smirked at Fuchs as he and Olsen, who had handed his weapon to Hogan, struggled to get Hotchner to his feet.

"You think of everything, mate," he said.

" _You're a traitor to the Fatherland!"_ von Eisenburg sneered. "Major Hochstetter will enjoy torturing you before killing you!"

"But you won't be around to see it," Fuchs reminded him.

The German sergeant reached back in his mouth and hurled a stream of spittle into Fuchs' face. _"Traitor!"_ he snarled loudly.

Hogan pointed his weapon at the sergeant, anger on his face. He watched Fuchs wipe his face with one hand and take a deep breath, glaring at the sergeant, his ice blue eyes speaking volumes however. The intense hatred in them was noticeable to all of them.

Looking around to be sure all men were accounted for, Hogan gestured with his sidearm for everybody to head out while indicating he and Fuchs were staying behind for now.

"I'll join you outside shortly," he promised. "Go."

The two men waited and watched as the others left Gestapo Headquarters with Newkirk and Olsen struggling with Hotchner while walking. When they were finally alone, Hogan studied his friend.

"Ready, Fritz?"

"Are you?"

Hogan let out a deep breath. "This is going to hurt me more than it does you."

Fuchs chuckled. "Somehow I don't think that's true."

As Hogan raised his arm, he paused hearing footsteps. Both men spotted Olsen jogging toward them.

"What are you doing here?" Hogan asked. "You're supposed to be in the truck with the others."

"You're gonna need my help, sir. Just take it on good authority that you will."

Hogan rolled his eyes, then brought the butt of his weapon down on Fuchs' head sending the German crashing to the floor nearly unconscious.

Olsen removed a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the bloody wound in Braun's chest. He then knelt beside Fuchs and wiped the bloody handkerchief against the German's blond hair.

"You can't expect to be struck on the head and there not be blood, sir," he remarked with a grin looking up at Hogan. "I figured you might have overlooked that so I thought I'd be ready to help." He got to his feet. "Now we can leave, Colonel."

Hogan took Fuchs sidearm and threw it down the hall so it appeared the officer was disarmed and his weapon tossed aside. He got to his feet, then he and Olsen hurried outside and got in the waiting truck.

Now alone, Fuchs let out a deep breath and glanced around. All he could do now was wait. The major would be here very soon and he had to be convincing.

"I hope he comes soon," he said quietly as he grimaced. "This floor is cold."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal and let out a deep breath.

"They got them out," he said quietly. "Fuchs kept his word to help get the three men out and he did exactly that." He realized there didn't seem to be anything Hogan couldn't do, nor any lack of people he could count on to help him. Now he began to wonder how Fuchs will make out with Hochstetter, and how Hogan would make out when the major came barreling in Stalag 13.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

 _ **(A Few Minutes Later):**_

Garlotti kept his eyes focused on the road ahead with occasional glances at Hogan who sat beside him. In the back were LeBeau and Carter, both armed, keeping their weapons trained on Vogel and von Eisenburg. The Germans sat opposite them with hands cuffed behind them against one wall of the truck. Olsen and Newkirk were next to Hotchner and keeping an eye on the unconscious man who had shown signs of regaining consciousness. A couple of times Hogan slid open the small slot so he could see the men in the back.

"How is he?" he asked Newkirk gesturing to Hotchner with his jaw.

"He's holding his own for now, Gov'nor," the Englander replied. "But I'd prefer it if Wilson were here right now."

Hogan let out a deep breath. "Do the best you can for him until we get back to camp. Wilson knows and will meet us in the tunnel."

"Yes, sir."

Hogan glanced for a few seconds at the two German guards before he slid the door shut and faced forward again. He rested the back of his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

"You okay, Colonel?" Garlotti asked avoiding looking at the American officer.

"Not now," the officer replied keeping his eyes closed. "Ask me that again after Hochstetter leaves Stalag 13 and this mess is over and finished."

* * *

Olsen patted Hotchner's shoulder and leaned back on his heels. Now that they were in the truck, he had gotten a close-up view of the man's injuries. And even he was horrified at the sight. Hotchner had been given a good work-over by the Gestapo. He looked at Newkirk.

"I can see why the Krauts thought he was Colonel Hogan," he said in a voice so low only Newkirk could hear. "His hair and eye color are the same. Then again, so's mine."

"Louie and I tried to tell 'em he wasn't, but that bloody bastard of a sergeant over there didn't want to listen." He shrugged his shoulders and winced at the movement. "And even though I hate to admit it, him thinkin' that is what kept us alive. Might have shot us outright otherwise."

"I hope the swine dies!" von Eisenburg hissed staring at them and grinding his lower jaw. "Death to you swine!"

LeBeau's eyes narrowed and he glared at the German, pressing the business end of his weapon flush against the center of the man's forehead.

"Filthy Bosche," the Frenchman growled.

Von Eisenburg snorted with disdain as he glared at the diminutive Frenchman. "Or you'll do what, swine? Shoot me? I doubt it. You French are cowards. That is why we control your country! Cowards!"

LeBeau ground his jaw in rage and his gun hand began to shake. As furious as he was at the moment, he remembered what Hogan had drilled into his head; into all their heads actually. They were not cold-blooded killers and he would not have anybody on his team who was. This, Hogan had further explained, is what made them different from the Nazis.

The corners of his mouth curled upward as he continued staring at the German sergeant. He took the gun away from the man's forehead and leaned his back against the opposite wall. His smile grew and grew until he no longer felt angry. He also smiled knowing that the guard across from him had no idea what it was he was smiling about at this moment.

* * *

Garlotti slowed down the truck as the outline of another vehicle became barely noticeable in the darkness. He had nearly missed it driving with the headlights off because of possible patrols. And also, the underground didn't have their headlights on either for the same reason. As he edged closer, the parked truck's headlights blinked three times.

"That's the signal. Give the reply," Hogan instructed. He waited as Garlotti activated his front headlights and blinked them three times. The sergeant pulled their truck off to the side of the road and next to the back of the other truck. Hogan climbed out of the front and was greeted by the older brother of Doctor Michael Prust, Otto Mueller. Hogan was one of a handful who knew Prust had changed his last name from Mueller to Prust to avoid trouble with the Gestapo in case Otto was ever captured. And also to provide assistance as well as medical care for underground operatives. Otto was followed by two armed men who Hogan recognized as Felix and Heinrich. He gripped Otto's hand. The underground operative noticed the weary expression on the American's face and offered a tired smile of his own.

"Glad you made it, Colonel," he said shaking the American's hand firmly. "We were starting to worry something had gone wrong."

"It nearly did," Hogan answered. "Good to see you also, Otto." He nodded a greeting to Felix and Heinrich. "Sorry for the delay. We had a problem with our prisoners. We lost one in the process so we only have two to turn over to you."

Just then the loudness of a train whistle shattered the night air causing the men to pause.

"Sounds like the train to Hammelburg is approaching the station," said Otto looking in the direction of the train station a short distance from where they were.

LeBeau had jumped out of the Stalag 13 truck still holding his weapon. Carter was to emerge next, followed by the prisoners and then Newkirk. Hogan would keep an eye on everyone from the ground just in case. But as Carter started to get out, von Eisenburg saw a small window of opportunity and took it. He pushed against Carter's shoulder from behind causing the younger man to stumble forward and start to fall out of the truck, and would have had him fall directly on LeBeau. It was only thanks to the quick thinking of Newkirk who grabbed his best friend from behind and kept him and anyone from further injury. Olsen had stayed with Hotchner to protect the unconscious man from further injury or accident and to keep an eye on Vogel.

It was during the chaos that von Eisenburg leapt from the truck, and started running down the road.

Hogan, hearing sounds of scuffling, ran towards the back of the truck with the three underground operatives in pursuit. They arrived in time to see a fleeing von Eisenburg getting away.

" _Colonel!"_ LeBeau shouted.

"I see 'im!" Hogan indicated as he took careful aim. He couldn't allow the man to escape. He had wanted to hand him over alive to the underground, but that option had just been taken out of his hands by the German sergeant's actions. He squeezed the trigger twice as another blast of the train whistle, louder this time, was heard masking the sound of gunfire.

"What's that?" asked a nervous Carter looking around.

"Train's entering Hammelburg station," said Otto knowingly. "If Hochstetter is on that train, it'll take him about fifteen or twenty minutes to reach Gestapo headquarters from the station."

The fleeing guard had stumbled after the first shot by Hogan, but maintained his balance and kept going. But after the second shot, he fell face-down on the ground and didn't move. Hogan ran up to him, knelt down, and pressed two fingers against the man's throat. He spotted the dark stain spreading in the center of the man's back, and another bloodstain on the back of his leg. With a sigh, he stood up and walked back toward the truck.

"He's dead," he announced as he got closer, then glared at the private who stood close to the opening of the truck. He swallowed nervously as he looked at Hogan. "I wouldn't get any ideas if I were you," the American suggested.

Vogel nervously eyed Hogan as he scanned the others and considered his options. He was certain he was going to die. If not here than in the hands of the underground. His eyes darted around taking everything in as his mind furiously worked overtime to come up with some way to save his own life.

"We need to get moving," the Colonel said.

It was then Vogel saw what might be his only chance and took it. He shoved Felix who fell against Otto and ran into the foliage on the opposite side of the truck, getting lost in the darkness of the woods. Righting himself, Felix raced after the man.

"I'll catch him!" he shouted over his shoulder as he followed Vogel into the woods and disappeared from view of everyone.

Hogan looked skyward at the stars.

"Can this night get any worse?' he asked the heavens. The sound of gunfire was heard.

LeBeau looked in the direction of the train station and shuddered.

"Mon Colonel, we need to get out of here and back to camp."

"And we will," Hogan assured the French corporal. "But first we need to recapture Vogel. If he gets away and make contact with Hochstetter, we've all had it." He was about to say something else when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Felix trudging out of the woods with a grim expression on his face.

"Do not worry, Colonel," he said. "Private Vogel will tell nobody anything. I managed to catch up with him when he tripped over an exposed tree root. He fought me as best he could considering he was handcuffed. He somehow got to his feet and started to run. I was forced to shoot him. He is quite dead I assure you."

Hogan nodded his understanding. "Then I guess we don't have any captives to give you. Seems all three are dead."

Otto chuckled. "No problem. Now go. You need to return to camp. Now that Hochstetter is back in Hammelburg, you need to get ready for him. We will take care of the trash."

Hogan glanced back at the body in the road, then looked at Otto.

"Are you sure we can't help you clean things up?" he asked.

"I'm sure. Now go, my friend. You still have much to do before this nightmare is over. Take care of your injured men. We'll be all right."

Hogan looked at the others. "Back in the truck. We need to get back to camp in time for either morning roll-call or Hochstetter, whichever comes first."

"Me money's on ole Hochstetter," chuckled Newkirk as he took his spot close to Hotchner.

"Mine too, Pierre," added LeBeau.

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "You ain't got none, mate. I won it all from ya last month playin' cards, remember?"

"Knock it off, you guys. This isn't poker. Now let's go," Hogan ordered as he climbed into the back of the truck with the others. After everybody was settled in back, Hogan slid open the small window-like opening, and glanced at Garlotti with a small smile.

"Home James, and don't spare the horses."

* * *

Impatient to get to Gestapo Headquarters, Wolfgang Hochstetter shoved past people in front of him whom he felt were too slow disembarking from the train. He heard people around him both swearing and mumbling as he pushed them out of his way, but nobody dared say anything to him when they saw his expression. He looked like a man possessed who was about to go on a rampage at the slightest provocation. So they just did their best to get out of his way as quickly as possible ahead of time.

When the major finally made it to the platform, he looked around and spotted Corporal Schneider leaning against a black car, it's Gestapo flags flapping in the breeze, with arms folded. A twisted smile appeared as he stomped down the steps toward the waiting vehicle.

Seeing his superior coming toward him, Schneider held open the rear passenger door to allow the major to climb inside the car. He saluted his boss as he entered and then closed the door. He then ran around to the driver's side, and got in behind the steering wheel.

"Take me to Gestapo Headquarters, corporal!" Hochstetter hissed.

Schneider, who had kept the engine running while waiting for the train, started to pull out of his parking spot. As he did, he swallowed the large lump in his throat.

"Herr Major…there is something you need to know before I take you to Gestapo Headquarters."

"Tell me later! I am impatient to question the great Colonel Hogan and prove once and for all he is Papa Bear! And I will prove it this time. And that bumbling Klink cannot stop me! _Now drive!"_

"Major, it is about Colonel Hogan."

That got the major's attention. "What about Hogan?! Has Captain Fuchs gotten his confession already?!"

"Nein, Herr Major. Sergeant von Eisenburg misinformed you, sir. After he phoned you about having captured Papa Bear, Captain Fuchs went to question the prisoners, and discovered the man in question was not the American Colonel."

" _What!"_ Hochstetter screamed nearing causing Schneider to lose control of the vehicle and go off the road his rant scared him so badly. " _Stop the car! Now!"_ Schneider stopped the car but left the engine idling.

"Now what is this about Hogan and why wasn't I told at once!?"

"Captain Fuchs tried to reach you before you left Bamberg, sir, but you had already left. Then he left a message with the Ticketmaster at the Munich station, but apparently you didn't get it."

"No, I didn't get it!" Hochstetter growled fantasizing as to what he would do to the Ticketmaster in Munich when things settled down. "What else?!"

Schneider licked his suddenly dry lips. "Sergeant von Eisenburg didn't tell Captain Fuchs either, sir. He called you directly. Needless to say the captain was furious when he found out what the sergeant had done. But he did not take any action against the sergeant, Private Vogel, or Corporal Braun. He said he would leave their punishment up to you to decide."

Hochstetter fell back against the seat and grumbled with a twisted smile on his face which sent shivers down Schneider's face.

"Captain Fuchs was wise to let me handle things, Corporal. And trust me when I say that Sergeant von Eisenburg, Private Vogel, and Corporal Braun will rue the day they bungled things so badly and ignored their superior in the process! Now get me to Gestapo Headquarters! I must speak with Captain Fuchs at once!"

 **(** _ **End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal and rested it on the table beside his recliner. Closing his eyes, he clasped his hands together in his lap. He needed to think about everything he had read to this point. He found himself with a new respect for Fritz Fuchs and his part not only in Hogan's rescue plans, but in the man's overall involvement with the Allies.

The German had made a decision to fight against the evil known as Adolph Hitler who infected his country, and to free his country and its people from that infestation. He had a better understanding of Fuchs' position within the Gestapo now. It not only gave him access to things that helped Hogan and the Allies, but also had him walking a fine line; finer than the line Hogan walked with Klink.

Hotch chuckled as he thought about it. His son Jack could handle Klink with very little if no problems at all, even at five-years-of-age. Of course he could not totally consider Klink as stupid. The man was a Colonel he reminded himself.

But from what he had read so far, there was one thing of which he still wasn't sure. And that was while he was positive as to where Fuchs' loyalty lay, he wasn't sure about Hochstetter's loyalty. Where exactly did it lay? Was it similar to Fuchs in that it was with the Allies, and he was only playing a part like Major Teppel had been? Did he pretend to be loyal to both sides like that agent, Robin Hood, like Garcia had found several days ago? Or was he, like had been uncovered so far, what Hotch suspected, and that was pure Gestapo? Hotch realized just like they worked a case, he needed additional info before he could be certain.

Aaron opened his eyes and blew out a deep breath, crossing his arms across his chest. Yes indeed, he had a lot more to think about right now before morning.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Hotch jerked awake to a ringing sound. Disoriented at first, he soon realized he must have dozed off in the recliner. But now wide awake, he realized the ringing came from upstairs. Lowering the foot rest of his recliner, he bolted out of the chair, and hurried up the steps two at a time.

By the time he reached the doorway of his bedroom, the ringing had stopped. Hotch grabbed his cell and checked the Caller ID to see if he'd been right as to who had called, and a smile appeared when he spotted the name. He scrolled through his list of contacts until he found who he wanted, and pushed the button belonging to the person. The call was answered on the second ring.

"You have reached the office of the Almighty Goddess of Technology. Ask mere mortal and prepare to be dazzled," said a cheery voice.

"Garcia, its Hotch."

"Yes, Bossman. You asked me to call you after I did research for you. Well, I have your answer."

"Which is?"

"First off, let me tell you that I had no idea where or how to begin my search for what you wanted. And I decided I needed help to get a handle so I…"

"Garcia!" Hotch said in his firm tone of voice. Left to her own devices, she had a habit of rambling.

"Sorry, sir. To answer your question, I found nothing on any family members maybe still alive for Captain Fuchs. And since we never had his wife's maiden name, I couldn't research her family."

Hotch sighed. "I suspected as much. Did you try checking on Germans who left Germany for whatever reason after the war?"

"Oui. But I found too many Germans to mention. I even checked on those who were arrested after the war for whatever the reason, and there were too many to check."

"Could you reduce the lists in any way?"

"No, sir. I even enlisted the help of our resident genius, and he found nothing either which shocked me."

"Well…" Hotch began. "If Reid can't find something then there's nothing to find."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You did your best I'm sure. You always do for us."

"Thank you, sir," Garcia said grateful for the compliment.

"You're welcome. But you can do something else for me when you find time."

"And what might that be, my liege?"

"I want you to check on a Wolfgang Hochstetter for me."

"As in the Gestapo Major, sir?"

"Yes. I want you to try and find out what you can other than what you've found earlier."

"Sir, if I run into a problem, can somebody with great hair and who wears a tie give me permission to do what needs to be done?" She always knew how to compliment her supervisor.

"Yes, Garcia," he replied. He sensed she could see him grinning despite being on the phone. Hotch knew he was being 'buttered up' by his tech analyst. Still, she always knew how to make all of them feel good.

"I will do my utmost best for you, Mon Capitaine. Your wish is my command."

"Call me when you've completed your search no matter what time you finish. I'll be here."

"Yes, sir. Is that all?"

"That's all."

"Roger-wilco, over and out, sir." The call was disconnected.

* * *

JJ looked up when she noticed her door opening from the corner of her eye. She observed Emily Prentiss walk into her office.

"Hey," JJ said with a smile.

"Hey yourself," Emily retorted. "You got a minute?"

"For you…anything," the blonde said closing the case file she was looking at trying to decide whether or not the team would work the case. "What do you need?"

"Can I?" Emily asked with her hand on the door handle.

"Sure, if you want."

The brunette closed the door to the blonde's office, then sat down on the chair facing the media liaison's desk.

"What's up?" JJ asked.

"Have you talked to Hotch at all since he asked our help with this journal?"

"Not lately. Why?"

"I'm concerned. I mean, he's asked additional information from Morgan, Garcia, Reid, and Rossi, but not from us. I mean, he hasn't asked us to do anything with the information he asked us to check on regarding the surviving offspring of the heroes."

"I know what you mean. I'm beginning to wonder if we wasted our time helping him as far as compiling that list of survivors of Hogan and Kinch who live in America."

"I even asked Rossi about it, Prentiss explained.

"What did he suggest we do?" JJ asked.

Emily let out a deep breath. "He suggested we wait until Hotch comes to us. He said Hotch has been finding out more information and we should hold on to what we know for now."

"Well, he's known Hotch for a long time. He should know."

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "I guess. But I feel so useless."

"I know. So do I, but until Hotch comes to us, all we can do is wait for him to ask for our help."

* * *

Reid and Morgan were hard at work at their desks with their case files. But instead of working, Reid was more occupied with staring into space. So preoccupied in fact that he didn't even notice Prentiss leave her desk and then the floor.

"Hey, Reid," Morgan said.

Reid didn't even look up when his name was called. In fact, Morgan wasn't sure his best friend had even heard him.

"Hey, Pretty Boy."

This time the young genius raised his head to see Morgan staring at him.

"What?" Reid asked staring curiously at the bald agent.

"You were staring into space like you had something on your mind. Want to talk about it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Morgan."

"C'mon, kid. I know you well enough by now to know when something's botherin' you. Now what is it? I'm gonna keep at it until I find out what it is so you might as well tell me now."

Reid sighed wearily and fell back against the back of his chair. "I'm worried about Hotch."

"Rossi told us Hotch was takin' a day off to process everything he's uncovered so far. He said as far as he knows Hotch is okay, so what's got you so worried about him? You don't believe Rossi?"

"It's not that. It's just that I asked Hotch a few days ago how he would feel if he wasn't able to get answers to the questions he has concerning the journal. He said he would have to accept that if necessary."

Morgan sighed. "He may not have a choice. I mean, the military's kind of funny about revealing things that are still considered classified."

"I just want Hotch to get all the answers he seeks."

"So do I, kid, but that's gonna be kinda hard if you know what I mean."

"Is there anything we can do in the meantime?" Reid asked.

Morgan let out a deep breath as he massaged his forehead. "I have no idea other than we just need to be there for him if and when he needs our help. Other than that…there's nothing we can do right now except let him come to us."

* * *

Rossi couldn't concentrate on the case file in front of him. He found himself reading the same sentence over and over. After about five minutes, the senior profiler shoved the folder away in disgust, and leaned back in his plush chair with hands clasped together in his lap.

He found himself still thinking about his telephone call to the Hogan household, and his conversation with Sandra Hogan. Rossi was normally an extremely patient person. But he found himself impatient for Bobby Hogan to call him back. Having to wait an entire week possibly was too much. All he could hope for is that the man in question got in touch with his sister, and then called him back if only out of curiosity at hearing his name.

He massaged his forehead as he felt the beginning of a headache. If he could only remember if this Bobby Hogan was indeed the grandson of the late Colonel Robert E. Hogan. He so much wanted to let Hotch know he had a possible connection to Colonel Hogan. Someone who might be able to supply the answers his superior still needed and wanted.

But until he was certain as to the man's true identity, he would have to keep mum as to his identity. No sense in getting Aaron's hopes up only to have them dashed in the end.

* * *

Garcia sat with her chin resting in her hands and staring at her now blank computer screen. She had spent the last two-to-two-and-a-half hours searching Wolfgang Hochstetter and found nothing new on the man other than what she had found a few days ago.

Right now she was terribly depressed and disappointed. Depressed she had found nothing new, and disappointed that she had failed her Unit Chief. Failed him in that he was counting on her to find something, anything on the man. And she had found absolutely nothing. Even after he gave her permission to do whatever was needed in order to find something. And still she found nothing.

Staring at her desk phone, she hesitated phoning Hotch as she really didn't want to tell him she had nothing new, especially after he complimented her earlier with how much they counted on her. What would he think about her after she told him this?

"I know what he'll think about me," Garcia murmured out loud to nobody. "He'll think I'm useless, that's what he'll think." She ran her hands up and down her face. "I'm sorry, my liege," she muttered. Then she lay her hand on top of the telephone receiver but didn't pick it up right away. Instead, she took her hand away. After a few seconds, she repeated what she had done at least two more times before she finally picked the receiver up and pressed it to her ear. Garcia let a finger hover over the button which was the first digit of her Unit Chief's telephone exchange, then just as suddenly hung up the receiver again. She couldn't dial the number yet.

Garcia's lower jaw suddenly fell open as what she considered a brilliant idea came to her. She hurriedly picked up the receiver and pressed four buttons hoping the person whose extension she dialed answered."Pick up, pick up, please pick up the phone. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon." She breathed a sigh of relief when there was a click on the other end.

"What is it, Baby Girl?" Morgan answered with a smirk. He didn't even have to ask who was calling.

"Derek, I don't know what to do now," she stammered.

"Let me guess. You couldn't find anything on Hochstetter other than what you found a few days ago, and you're afraid to tell Hotch."

"How'd you guess?"

"I'm a profiler in case you forgot."

"Don't be a smart ass, mister. No, I didn't forget. It's just that…well, I can't tell Hotch I failed to find anything new on Major Hochstetter after he praised me about the work I do for the team. He's gonna be so disappointed in me."

Morgan chuckled. Their tech analyst always needed 'propping up' whenever she believed she had failed with a request for information from one of the team. And Morgan knew she always called him for just that.

"Garcia, you didn't fail Hotch. He told Rossi he knew there was a possibility you might not find anything new."

"Can you call him instead and tell him I tried and…."

"Are you going to tell me Penelope Garcia, technical analyst extraordinaire is afraid of disappointing one Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief?"

"Who me? No. Of course not. It's just that…"

"It's just what? Either you are or you're not. Which is it?"

There was a long period of silence before anybody said anything. After a while longer, Garcia broke the silence.

"I…I'll call him. Worst he can do is fire me." She shuddered at the thought. She heard Morgan laugh. "What's so funny, my Chocolate Stud Muffin?"

"Sweetness, Hotch will do no such thing, trust me. You're gonna be fine."

"We'll see," the blonde said before she disconnected the call. Without hanging up the receiver, she pushed the buttons for Hotch's number and someone answered on the second ring.

"Hotchner."

"Sir, it's me."

"Yes, Garcia?"

"Sir, I didn't…that is, I couldn't…I'm sorry."

"You didn't find anything, did you?"

"No, sir. Again, I'm so, so, sorry," Garcia apologized again.

"What are you sorry about? It was a long shot to begin with. I know you did your best and that's all I can ask."

"Thank you, sir. But I feel like I let you down when you were counting on me."

"Not in any way, Penelope. You've never let me down. And you never will."

"You're not upset or angry with me?" Garcia held her breath.

"Not in the least. Thank you for trying."

"Yes, sir. And you're welcome. Call back if you need me to check on something else."

"I will. Goodbye."

"Adios, Mon Capitaine." Garcia breathed a sigh of relief and disconnected the call. A smile appeared on her face. Aaron Hotchner had just made her day and she felt great.

* * *

Hotch smiled as he put the cell back on his charger. He suspected he had just made his tech analyst happy, and it wasn't pretense on his part. She really was the best at what she did and they were so lucky to have her. In fact, she could never disappoint him.

With a sigh, Hotch returned downstairs. It was time to read more of the journal.

* * *

 _ **(Later at Gestapo Headquarters):**_

Hochstetter pushed open the door of Gestapo Headquarters and paused when he saw nobody at the front desk or even Fuchs coming to greet him. Surely the captain was expecting him aware that he was returning to Hammelburg. He took a few steps further into the building and paused again. Then he spoke without looking behind him.

"Schneider, where is everyone?"

"I…I'm not sure, sir. Captain Fuchs was here when I left. And Sergeant von Eisenburg, Corporal Braun and Private Vogel were expected in. But why the sergeant isn't at the front desk I do not know."

"And what about Captain Fuchs?"

"He is supposed to be here, sir. He was aware you were due in and wanted to be here to greet you when you arrived."

Hochstetter slowly rested a hand on the butt of his service weapon still in its holster as his eyes scanned the area.

"Something is not right here, corporal. There should be a man at the front desk to announce those who arrive. Come. We will first check Captain Fuchs' office. If he is not there, we will search this building until we find either him or one of those men."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch looked up from his reading for a few moments. Could Fuchs convince one of his two best friends of what happened? Or would he fail and cost everybody their lives? With a sigh, his eyes returned to the journal and resumed reading.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

 **(Shortly Later – Out In the Woods):**

Garlotti drove as fast as he dared despite the headlights being turned on illuminating the road. He turned on the lights since they left the woods after meeting with the underground. Hogan sat in the back with the others. He wanted to check the condition of his injured men for himself, especially Hotchner. As the man had been mistaken for him, he apparently got the worse beating of the trio. The colonial became appalled by what he saw having time to view the man's injuries up close.

In the end, Hogan admitted to himself that Hotchner resembled him more than Olsen did. And the 'outside man' was a dead-ringer for the colonel to start. It gave him comfort knowing that he now had an added person to fill in for him if Olsen became unavailable for whatever reason. He only hoped that neither man might be injured while pretending to be the colonel. With a sigh, he leaned against the wall and tried to relax for a few minutes. But he realized total relaxation for him and his men must wait until they returned to Stalag 13 and this nightmare ended. (1)

With his eyes on the road, Garlotti was glad the guys were safe and they arrived back at camp soon, and things might return to normal. Nobody had any idea how much he prayed for normalcy right now, except maybe the colonel and the guys who went through this nightmare with him. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as something appeared a short distance in front of him. As he got closer, Garlotti swore under his breath in Italian.

" _Roadblock!"_ he told himself.

Garlotti slowed the truck as three of the guards stepped forward. Two of them pointed their rifles in his direction. The one in front wore a sidearm and held a flashlight in one hand which shined directly in Garlotti's eyes nearly blinding him. He bore the rank of a captain. Behind them stood a wooden barricade, with two more armed guards with rifles aimed in his direction on the other side of the wooden barricade.

" _Halt!"_ bellowed the one closest to the officer.

Garlotti stopped the truck completely leaving the engine idling just in case they needed to make a run. He reached inside his uniform for the fake papers he carried after Hogan gave them to him once they left Gestapo headquarters.

As he clutched them in one hand, his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He didn't notice Hogan sliding open the panel of the small window having felt the truck slowing and then stopping.

After he slid the panel shut, the American officer glanced at LeBeau and Newkirk and saw the questions and worry in their eyes.

"Heer patrol," he announced. "Carter, Olsen, stay sharp. LeBeau, Newkirk, hands behind your back and pretend you're handcuffed and keep your weapons behind you and be ready in case. And move Hotchner's hands so he looks cuffed as well. I'll handle this."

Hogan quickly made his way past the others knowing he had to intercede quickly to avoid more trouble. As he was jumping out of the back of the truck, he heard Newkirk mumble something about 'Damn bloody Krauts!' and a small smile appeared and disappeared just as quickly. His feet hit the ground in time to hear one of the guards shouting "Papers, bitte!" (2)

The American officer strode toward the front of the truck and saw a German captain, and the other two were a sergeant and a corporal standing beside the open driver side window, weapons pointed. The captain was shining his light directly in Garlotti's face. The two behind the barricade he wasn't sure because they were partially in the shadows. He saw Garlotti hand the fake papers to the captain through the window. The German officer unfolded the papers, shined his light on them, and began to scan them.

" _Private, why have we stopped!"_ Hogan demanded in a loud, arrogant tone.

The captain turned and shined his light directly in Hogan's face, not immediately making out the Gestapo uniform. Hogan held up one gloved hand in front of his face to shield his eyes from the glare.

" _Get that damn light out of my face!"_

It was when the captain averted his flashlight and noticed the uniform, he swallowed the lump in his throat. _Gestapo officer!_

He gestured for the others to lower their weapons, and they each hastily offered salutes which Hogan returned.

"We apologize Herr Colonel," said the captain. "We didn't realize. We were just assigned this area and on the lookout for saboteurs."

" _Do I look like a saboteur to you, Captain?!"_ Hogan hissed angrily getting directly in the man's face.

"Nein, Herr Colonel…"

"Then I suggest you stop wasting our time and allow us to proceed with our prisoners." Hogan was glaring at the man.

"Prisoners, sir?" asked the corporal innocently.

" _Ja, corporal…prisoners! So I suggest you stop wasting our time! It's bad enough you interrupted my interrogation in the back of our truck."_

"Where are you heading Colonel?" asked the Captain.

"That is none of your concern. But if I can no longer get any information from these prisoners because of your interference, you can and will join them! _Do I make myself clear?!"_

The German captain and the others stiffened.

"We apologize for any delay we have caused you, Herr Colonel," the captain's voice was strained. "We were just doing our job." He hastily handed the papers back to Garlotti, then glanced over his shoulder at the men still at the barricade. "Allow the Colonel's truck to pass!"

"Danke." Hogan gave a hasty salute and stormed to the back of the truck and climbed inside before he let out a deep breath.

Garlotti waited until the barricade was moved out of his path before he drove the vehicle past the roadblock and once again heading toward Stalag 13. When he imagined he was far enough away from the guards, he let out a deep breath. Maybe normalcy was highly overrated after all.

* * *

Hochstetter still felt something was off, so after obtaining a set of keys fitting every lock of every door and cell in the building from the front desk, he kept his weapon in his hand. Followed by Schneider, he warily made his way to the office of his second-in-command. He promised himself that if the captain's office was vacant, he would then thoroughly search every office and cell whether locked or not. It would be a painstakingly slow process, but they needed to make sure offices and cells weren't locked from the inside by unknown visitors and/or underground agents, and get themselves shot in the process. Reaching Fuchs office, Hochstetter found it unlocked and cautiously opened the door. They found the office completely vacant. Not pleased, they exited the office and closed the door behind them.

Schneider looked around the hall nervously. Not finding any sign of Fuchs or even seeing anybody else so far was beginning to have a creepy effect on him as well.

"Where do you suppose everybody is, Herr Major? Where is Captain Fuchs?"

Hochstetter let out a deep breath. "I don't know, corporal. I am hoping the captain is interrogating the prisoners. I don't even want to guess if he isn't. But if he isn't…" He left the rest of the sentence unfinished as he really didn't want to think about what might have happened to his best friend and second-in-command. Then with his gun, he motioned for Schneider to follow him. One by one, the two men checked out each office only to find each one empty until they had checked each one and found nothing.

Standing outside the last office on the floor, both men again looked around dismayed. Schneider studied the major's face. He saw the worry for Fuchs and the other men growing in the major's eyes, and the rage of the unknown growing on the man's face. The corporal knew heads would roll if anything happened to any of the Major's men. And that the major would not rest until he had revenge against all those responsible.

"Where to now, Major? We have searched every office on this floor and found nothing or anyone."

"Then come…it is time we examine the cell area," Hochstetter announced.

The two men cautiously made their way below to the cell location where prisoners were housed. Again Hochstetter looked around the empty hallway he stood in at the closed cell doors keeping a tight grip on his pistol as did Schneider. Both men were aware if anybody was waiting for them, this was where they would be hiding. A dark cell would be the perfect hiding place for a trap. So the two men cautiously and slowly stopped at each cell to check whether they were locked or unlocked.

As they turned the last corner they both froze at the sight which met their eyes. Hochstetter's mouth fell open as his eyes widened. Behind him, Schneider, whose vision was temporarily blocked by the officer, bumped into the major's back having stopped so suddenly. Taking a step back, his eyes landed on what the major saw and his eyes widened at what the major was seeing.

" _Gott im Himmel!"_ Hochstetter shouted. (3)

There in front of them lay two bodies on the floor in a large pool of blood, one on his back, the other on his stomach. To the major, he couldn't tell if one or both were dead. And there was so much blood. All he could see from where he stood was that Fuchs had blood on the back of his head, and he feared his friend had been shot in the back of his head. He could also tell from where he was that the other man was dead. And no matter how much as he wanted to run toward Fuchs and check on him it had to wait as he first had to clear the area. He turned and took a briefly to see the empty cell behind him and its wide open door. "How could this have happened? Three prisoners, whoever they are, are missing as are the other two guards on duty tonight." He turned back to Fuchs' body.

"Mein Gott!" said the corporal. (4)

Schneider took a step toward the captain's body and immediately Hochstetter blocked his forward progress by holding out an arm.

"Nein. We need to clear the rest of the area first."

"But the captain…"

"It must wait. If he is dead he will not be going anywhere. And if he is still alive, we cannot help him if we are shot and killed now can we?"

"Nein," the corporal replied reluctantly.

"Then let us check the other cells quickly."

It took more than half-an-hour to check and clear the remaining prison cells. They had found nobody, but they did find something. Outside one cell they had cleared, the major spotted something on the floor. The major bent over and ended up picking it up to get a closer look at what he had found.

"What did you find, Major?" Schneider asked.

"It is a gun," Hochstetter said. "It appears to be Captain Fuchs' weapon. I remember when he had it especially made for him. And it has been fired at least once."

"Do you think he shot the man we saw beside him in the hall?"

"I am not sure but I will find out." He stuck the gun in his belt. "Come, I must find out if he is still alive."

The two men hurried back to the two injured men. Stepping over each man and avoiding the blood pool, Hochstetter holstered his weapon and knelt beside the enlisted man and pressed two fingers against his neck. He swallowed hard as he found no pulse…the man was dead. From his expression, Schneider also knew the man was dead. Later he would grieve, but right now he needed to know about Fuchs.

Hochstetter then turned toward Fuchs and pressed those same two fingers against his throat. A sigh of relief was heard when he felt a pulse…it was weak but steady.

"He is alive, Corporal," the major stammered but relieved. He gently touched the back of the captain's head and just as quickly removed his hand and looked at his palm. It was red with blood. "Corporal, go upstairs and telephone for a doctor to come immediately. Captain Fuchs has been seriously injured and has a head wound. Then I want you to call in every man on the roster and get them in here. I need search parties everywhere."

"Jawohl, Herr Major!" Schneider turn and ran as fast as he could to carry out his assigned task leaving the major alone with his friend.

Hochstetter glanced at the dead enlisted man and recognized him as Corporal Erik Braun. He then spotted the single wound in the center of his chest and wondered if the captain had shot him. If he had…why? What would cause Fuchs to shoot one of his own men? Even if it was one of the men involved in the capture of three men one of which was mistaken for Hogan. Then he noticed the captain's holster was empty which confirmed that the gun he found was Fuchs.

"I do not know yet what happened here, Fritz, but I promise you I will find out the truth! I also promise you if I find Hogan was involved in this somehow, he will pay and pay dearly!"

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch looked up from the journal and found himself thinking. He wished he knew more about Fritz Fuchs other than what he knew. He found he had wanted to talk with any survivors of the man's family and to learn more about the man, and why he decided to help the Allies and turn against Hitler. But unless he could find out something about Fuchs from Hogan's survivors, he would have to be satisfied with what he knew. He decided to read more.

* * *

 _ **(Several Minutes Later – Gestapo Headquarters):**_

Hochstetter, hearing footsteps behind him, turned his head and spotted Schneider rushing in his direction.

"I reached Doctor Prust, sir. He is bringing an ambulance!"

"Gut! And what about the men?"

"I contacted everybody on the roster, sir. They were all distressed about what's happened. They are all coming in, even those scheduled on leave."

"Excellent, Corporal."

Licking his lips nervously, the corporal stared at his commanding officer. "Herr Major, what do you think happened down here?"

Hochstetter, resting his hand on Fuchs' back gently hoping he was offering comfort to his injured friend, looked up at his aide.

"I am not sure, corporal. About the only thing of which I am sure is that I have three prisoners missing, one dead guard, one injured officer, and either two guards missing or taken hostage. That is all of which I am sure."

"Verstehen, Herr Major. You should return upstairs and wait for several of the men to report in for duty. They will need to be given orders by you. I will stay with the captain and keep watch over him for you. I will let you know if anything changes."

"Danke, Corporal. I will send men down here to investigate and then clean up and remove the body. I then want you to join me upstairs and we will head out to Stalag 13."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal and lay it in his lap. He rested his hands on top of it as he thought about what he had just read.

Things were progressing, albeit slowly, as far as Hogan and his men were concerned. Not only that, but the situation with Fuchs had progressed to the point where his life and the lives of his family were at risk depending as to whether he could fool the major.

But more importantly, he hoped his grandfather would be all right and recover fully. He also had to wonder where he would go from here with looking for answers.

* * *

Rossi was busy reading a case file and started scrawling his signature on the bottom when something came to mind right away that hadn't before. As if afraid he would forget it, he grabbed the handle of his briefcase and picked it up and lay it on his desk.

Unclasping the locks, he rummaged through the contents which included copies of the paperwork Garcia had provided until he found what he wanted and pulled it out. He carefully read its contents again. As his eyes roamed over the page, a slow smile appeared as he realized he held in his hand the confirmation that the 'Bobby Hogan' whose number he had dialed earlier was the grandson of the late Colonel Robert E. Hogan. But he needed to check one additional thing before he could share his finding with Aaron.

* * *

(1) THE OUTSIDE MAN was written by snooky-9093. The series itself gave Olsen the nickname of 'The Outside Man,' not the author. She merely wrote a story of the same name.

(2) Heer is the German Army.

(3) 'Gott im Himmel' means 'God in Heaven' translated by Google Translation.

(4) 'Mein Gott' means 'My God' translated by Google Translation.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

 _ **(Stalag 13):**_

Once safely past the roadblock, Garlotti left the road and turned into the woods. When they finally reached Stalag 13, he parked the truck as near to the tree stump as he dared. This was so they didn't have far to go while carrying an injured man, and also didn't get caught by the searchlight from the guard tower. Hogan and Olsen both jumped out of the back of the truck with Hogan tightly gripping his weapon just in case. Looking up at the barbed wire, a small smile appeared. He had never been so glad to see that wire and guard tower of the place he called home the last three years.

The two men warily approached the tree stump which doubled as the entrance and exit into and out of the tunnels. And being outside the wire, now was not the best time to be caught by any of the camp guards. Especially as they still had Hochstetter to contend with and wore Gestapo uniforms. As the two men crouched behind the tree stump, Hogan looked around to be sure there were no intruders nearby. He then looked at Olsen as both men spotted the searchlight which had gone past them, and was now approaching them from the opposite direction.

"Okay, when the searchlight passes us, climb downstairs, and get Wilson to bring a stretcher. It's the only way we're going to get Hotchner into the tunnel. Once we get him down, then the rest of you can follow. I'll keep watch and go last. Now get ready…"

The searchlight swept past them. Once it did, Olsen raised the lid of the tree stump and stepped onto the inside ladder. He proceeded to climb down and Hogan closed the lid to the tree stump and ducked back down to conceal himself from the light and wait.

* * *

Once Olsen's feet hit the ground, he was met by several men. Two of which were the camp medic, Joe Wilson, and Kinch's relief on the radio, Sergeant Richard Baker.

Baker looked past Olsen hoping to see the others. When he didn't, he stared at Olsen.

"You're back. Where's the guys? Where's the Colonel? Are they okay? What happened?"

"Everybody's okay and we'll tell you later." Olsen, for the most part, ignored Baker and focused on Wilson. "Joe, we need a stretcher, Hotchner's too hurt to make it on his own."

Wilson nodded. "I'll get Paul to bring one with him. You're gonna need help getting Hotchner into the tunnel. I'll bring my bag. From what I know we were told by Bluebird, I'm gonna need it."

"Hurry, Joe," Olsen pleaded. He watched Wilson run away through one of the side tunnels as fast as he could. When he had gone, the other guys all bombarded Olsen with questions at once. "Newkirk and LeBeau are okay except for a few bruises and several minor injuries. But Hotchner got it the worse. Apparently one of the guards mistook him for Colonel Hogan and really let him have it."

Baker's mouth dropped. "How bad is it?"

But before Olsen could answer, Wilson returned carrying his worn black medical bag, and Sergeant Paul Anderson, Wilson's black assistant, carrying a stretcher, both came into view.

Olsen looked at Baker. "Richard, you'd better come also. You can help Anderson carry the stretcher below."

Baker nodded and joined the others as they raised the lid to the tree stump.

* * *

Hogan kept watch on the searchlight as he waited for Olsen and help to return. His nerves were getting the better of him as twice he thought he had heard someone approaching from behind him, and it turned out to be only a small animal. He'd be so glad when they were below in the safety of the tunnels and not out in the open as they currently were.

Just then, he noticed the lid of the tree stump slowly rise, and Olsen's head peeked out first making sure it was safe. Once he got a nod from Hogan, Olsen helped raise the stretcher from above with Baker lifting it from below. With both men working, the stretcher was finally brought above quickly to the surface, and Baker climbed up afterward.

Now on the surface, Baker and Olsen carried the stretcher between them with an armed Hogan following. Once they reached the back of the truck, Hogan ordered LeBeau and Newkirk out first as they were able to move somewhat easily despite their injuries. Once they had gotten out of the truck, they slid Hotchner toward the edge of the truck so Olsen and Baker could slide him out the rest of the way, and onto the waiting stretcher where they secured him. Once the back of the truck was now empty, Hogan walked to the front of the truck and ordered Garlotti to return the vehicle to the carpool then get below.

* * *

Despite Schneider's offer to stay with Fuchs while the major went upstairs to wait for the men to report for duty, Hochstetter found himself unable to move. He was frozen to where he knelt. Afraid that if he left his side, Fuchs would die. Suddenly, Hochstetter felt a shaking motion under his hand and stared at his friend. Fuchs' body was shivering. The major looked around for his corporal. He saw Schneider hurrying toward him from inside the open prison cell behind them carrying a worn blanket. He handed it to the major.

"Danke, Corporal," Hochstetter said gratefully as he took the blanket and tucked it around Fuchs' body in an attempt to keep him warm and protect him from the chill of the cold floor. He got to his feet and as Schneider knelt beside the injured officer, Hochstetter took one last look at his friend. "Keep an eye on him, Corporal. I want to know the minute there is _any_ change in his condition. Verstehen?"

"Verstehen, Major."

"Gut."

That said, the Major reluctantly walked away to return back upstairs and take charge. He knew that as the head of the Hammelburg Gestapo, he knew he often had to do things he didn't want to do, and this was one such time. He desperately wanted to stay with his best friend and keep an eye on him if something should happen. It's not that he didn't trust Schneider, it's only that he felt he should be there in the event something happened.

 _You need to live, Fritz,_ he thought to himself. _I do not want to be the one to tell Lilly of your death. Also, I could not live with myself if that happened._ With a growl of discontent, Hochstetter turned his thoughts to what he had to do when he got back upstairs.

* * *

Fuchs felt Schneider's hand resting on his back. And just as he had felt Hochstetter's hand on him earlier, sensed Schneider, like Hochstetter, was offering him comfort. He had felt the major wrap the worn wool blanket around him when he started shivering, and he so much wanted to say 'thank you,' but he couldn't. Just acknowledging the blanket might prove detrimental, so he stayed mum.

Shivering came easy to Fuchs as he didn't plan it…not really. It was because he was laying on a cold wooden floor. He supposed he should be lucky he wasn't laying in a pool of blood as that would have been worse. His shirt would have been soaked and wet with blood. He was glad that only the outside of his jacket sleeve touched the blood of the dead man near him. But more than that, Fuchs found himself worrying about catching hypothermia from laying on the cold floor. The shivering was a sure sign that the cold was permeating his body. But to hopefully ward off the full effects of the chill, Fuchs thought of one thing…his infant son David. Thinking of his son made even laying on a cold floor more tolerable. In fact, it was the only thing which kept him sane as he pretended to be unconscious and controlled his breathing in order to remain same.

" _David…David…David…"_ he kept telling himself internally every time he felt the urge to either open his eyes or even attempted to move. He believed that as long as he kept saying his son's name, he could hold out as long as need be until Prust arrived.

* * *

The moment the searchlight passed them again, Hogan raised the lid of the tree stump and gestured for Baker and Olsen to pass him carrying the stretcher on which Hotchner was secured. Baker partially climbed down the ladder far enough to allow Olsen to slide the stretcher down for him to grip and help get it down below. Then he himself climbed down. Hogan hastily closed the lid again and he and the others ducked and hid as the searchlight passed by again. The minute it did, Hogan got to his feet again and opened the lid. He proceeded to usher Newkirk and LeBeau down the tunnel before he again closed the lid. Now it was only himself, Carter and Garlotti. He wasn't too worried as the sergeant would leave the truck on the road so the motor pool sergeant found it the next day. So it was just himself and Carter to get below.

As they crouched behind the stump again, the American officer looked back at his younger sergeant. "Carter, next time the searchlight passes, I want you to go down into the tunnel."

Carter gripped his commanding officer's arm. "But, sir, what about you? You'll be all alone out here."

Hogan grinned. He couldn't damn Carter for his loyalty. With a shake of his head, he glanced at the man again. "Don't worry about me. I'll be right behind you." Looking up again, he saw the searchlight coming their way again. "Get ready," he added.

It was then that the searchlight passed right over their heads again. After it did, Hogan raised the lid and gestured for Carter to get going. Hogan quickly followed his young sergeant and as he closed the lid behind him, the searchlight started back in their direction and glided over the now closed stump lid.

As he climbed down the ladder and his feet touched the dirt floor, Hogan found himself surrounded by several of his men welcoming him back. He glanced around and spotted Newkirk and LeBeau.

"Where's Hotchner?" he asked them, concerned.

"Olsen and Baker took him to one of the empty tunnels we use as a guest quarters so Wilson can check 'im out, sir," Newkirk explained.

Hogan arched an eyebrow quizzically and folded his arms across his chest. "Then why aren't you and LeBeau with him so you can be checked out as well?"

"Mon Colonel, Pierre and I are not that badly hurt," LeBeau stated. "Wilson needs to spend all his time examining Hotchner. He received the worst treatment from that filthy Bosche sergeant."

"I don't care who got the worst abuse. I want both of you to have Wilson check you guys over and be sure. And make that an order."

"But Gov'nor…."

"Don't 'But Gov'nor' me, Newkirk. And if the two of you try to get out of it, just keep in mind that until I get a report from Wilson, you guys are grounded. Do I make myself clear?"

"C'mon, Colonel," said LeBeau. "Have a heart…."

"I _said_ do I make myself clear," Hogan repeated.

"Qui, Colonel," LeBeau said.

"Right, Gov'nor," added the Englander.

Neither he nor LeBeau liked it, but both respected Hogan too much to disobey his orders.

Hogan left them and headed for the tunnel location where he believed Wilson would be and found him and Anderson hovering over Hotchner examining him carefully.

"How is he, Joe?" asked the officer.

"It's too soon to say one way or the other, Colonel," Wilson replied without even so much as a glance at the officer. He was too involved in what he was doing. "I'll know more after Paul and I finish with our examination."

Hogan nodded his head and wrapped his arms around himself. "Do the best you can for him," he said. He started to leave when he paused and turned back again. "Once you're done, I want you to take a look at Newkirk and LeBeau. They're not as badly hurt as Hotchner, but I still want them examined nonetheless."

"Will do, sir," Wilson replied.

"Thanks, Joe." Hogan sighed and left the tunnel to see about Garlotti. He didn't have to go far before he found him in the radio room talking with Olsen, Newkirk and LeBeau. The four men stopped talking when the officer walked into their sight.

"Colonel, how's Hotchner?" asked Olsen.

"He's being looked at by Wilson and Anderson right now." Hogan focused on Garlotti. "Any problems?"

"No, sir. I left the truck on the road, and managed to get into the tunnels without being seen."

Then Hogan looked at Newkirk and LeBeau. "I've asked Wilson to check you guys out when they finish with Hotchner."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Colonel, we already promised you we'd get checked out. Something tells me you don't believe us."

"I need to be sure you two went through with the exam. Just because you tell me you'll get checked out doesn't mean you'd do it. And when it comes to taking care of yourselves, I just wanted to make sure."

"Yes, sir," said Newkirk dejectedly as he and the Frenchman eyed each other.

* * *

Hochstetter sat at the front desk going over several reports in which he had no interest. He was simply trying to past the time until extra men and the doctor arrived. Just when he thought he was about to go out of his mind, he heard the front doors of Gestapo Headquarters open, and in walked a lieutenant he recognized as Wilhelm Best. The Lieutenant had recently been promoted because of his fine work and dedication to the Gestapo. In fact, the major believed that Best would go far in the Gestapo being as driven as he was. He then spotted Prust hurrying through the double doors carrying his black bag. Spotting them, Hochstetter jumped up from his seat and approached both men. Best smartly saluted the Major. The major returned the salute before he glanced at Prust.

"I will be with you in a few minutes, Herr Doctor." Hochstetter faced Best. "Lieutenant, I need you to stay up here and carry out my orders. There will be many more men reporting for duty tonight. Captain Fuchs has been attacked and two guards are missing with another dead. Also, three prisoners are missing. Send out search parties to look everywhere and they are not to rest until they find them. I will also need men to report to and search the prison area to investigate and clean up the area afterward. Right now, I need to return to the prison cell area with the doctor so he can tend to Captain Fuchs."

"How is the Captain, Herr Major?" asked Best genuinely concerned and it showed on his face.

Hochstetter sighed. "He is alive, Lieutenant. That is all we know right now. But now I must bring the doctor to treat him."

"Jawohl, Herr Major. I will carry out your orders right away."

"Excellent." Hochstetter looked at Prust. "Come with me, Doctor."

Prust walked beside the Gestapo Major. "Herr Major, can you give me any information on the captain's injuries?"

"Not much I'm afraid. He has a head injury and there is blood, but I cannot say with any assurances as to whether or not he has been shot in the head. I also do not know if he has any other injuries. But he is alive. Also, there is a dead guard beside him who has been shot in the chest."

"That is what a Corporal Schneider told my nurse. I made arrangements for a medical examiner to come out and remove the body. They should be here before long. My only concern is with Captain Fuchs."

"Danke. He is a very close friend, and has an infant son. I don't want to have to tell his wife she is a widow."

"I will do what I can for him, Herr Major. I promise."

When they reached the prison area, Prust froze for a millisecond at the sight which greeted his eyes. Despite Hogan having informed him ahead of time of what he could expect, it still shocked him when he saw it. He walked around Hochstetter and approached the apparently dead guard first. He knelt down and pressed two fingers against the man's throat. It was obvious to him the man was dead but this would confirm that for everybody. Then he turned and pressed two fingers against Fuchs' throat, and let out a deep breath.

"You are correct, major. Your captain is still very much alive. As to whether or not he was shot in the head, I cannot tell until I clean away some of the blood. I have an ambulance outside to escort him to the hospital." As Prust leaned closer, he saw Fuchs' eyes crack open ever so slightly so nobody else could see, and then closed them again. Prust suppressed a grin as this was Bluebird's only way to let him know he was okay. Whether or not any of the others had seen Prust didn't know. But he had an explanation if necessary. It would be simply that Fuchs opened his eyes for a split second and then went unconscious again.

"Will he be all right, Doctor?" asked Schneider.

"That I cannot tell you, corporal. But as I told the major, I will do my best for him."

Just then two men appeared from around the corner carrying a stretcher between them, and hurried toward the men. They lay the stretcher flat on the floor on the opposite side of Fuchs, and one of them locked the stretcher flat in place. One of them wrapped a bandage around Fuchs' head to protect the wound. Then with great care, the attendants picked him up by his legs and under his arms, and placed him on the stretcher. Once he was secured onto the stretcher, they lifted it and Prust, Hochstetter, and Schneider got to their feet preparing to follow them outside to the ambulance.

As the attendants made their way to the ambulance, Schneider and Hochstetter periodically dodged several enlisted men who were arriving at the same time. Several of them paused long enough to watch what was taking place, and immediately recognized the man on the stretcher as that of Captain Fritz Fuchs. Hochstetter could see the emotion on the faces of many of them. They had heard about what happened to Fuchs and were angry to put it mildly. He knew the men respected Fuchs as much as they did himself, and to think somebody would deliberately injure either of them was more than any of them could take. And there was an unspoken pledge among them that they would find the guilty party or parties.

The duo followed Prust who opened the double doors of the back of the ambulance. They then stood watching the attendants carefully load the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. It was then that the coroner's wagon arrived to remove the body still downstairs waiting. But their attention seconds later turned back to the ambulance. With the stretcher secured inside, Prust climbed into the back of it to attend to Fuchs while en-route to the hospital. As one attendant jogged to the front of the vehicle and climbed behind the wheel, the back doors were closed by the other attendant before he ran forward and climbed into the passenger side of the cab beside the driver. The vehicle started to pull away and head toward its destination.

Inside the back of the ambulance, Fuchs opened his eyes a slit and smiled up at Prust who smiled back at the man.

"How's the headache, Captain?" he asked in a soft voice.

"I'll live. But Danke for getting me off of that cold wooden floor," Fuchs said in a soft voice.

* * *

Hochstetter, watching the ambulance bearing his best friend driving away, at last turned toward Schneider who stood beside him.

"You will come with me, Corporal. Now we head to Stalag 13 and question Colonel Hogan. And if he is behind what's happened, he will pay dearly!"

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

* * *

Hotch lay the journal in his lap open. Things were getting much more interesting. He was glad Hogan and his men had gotten back safely to Stalag 13 although a bit worse for wear. And Fuchs had managed so far to fool Hochstetter. But he wondered how much longer the captain could maintain his charade. He picked up the journal and started to read again.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

 _ **(Stalag 13 – Early Morning Hours):**_

Hogan stood in front of the open window in his quarters with his arms wrapped around himself, staring out into the darkened compound. The gentle breeze coming through the open window felt good. He hoped to relax before the real fun began, and hopefully take his mind off the goings on below with Hotchner, LeBeau and Newkirk, especially Hotchner. Even he had to admit to himself it scared him the man might be more seriously injured than originally suspected. And if that happened, how to explain it to Klink without ruining his no escape record.

The American officer came out of his reverie by a knock on his door. Closing and locking the window, Hogan turned ready to face that person.

"Come in," he announced.

The door opened and Wilson walked into the small room closing the door behind him.

Hogan stepped beside the small table which doubled as his desk, and leaning forward, placed his hands, palms downward, flat onto the table.

"Well?" he asked the medic.

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "It's better than I feared, sir. Newkirk and LeBeau are bruised from being beaten, and will be sore for a while. But both should fully recover in a week with no aftereffects whatsoever."

Hogan had been relieved at this news. "And Hotchner?"

"Hotchner's injuries are bit more serious, sir."

"In what way?"

"For starters, he's been beaten worse than the others. He has a concussion and two fractured ribs. Fortunately the ribs had been wrapped which kept them from becoming displaced and causing more damage such as puncturing a lung. But what concerns me most is his eye. It's swollen shut right now so I don't know if there's any permanent damage. I can keep applying ice packs to it to help reduce the swelling. But I'm afraid I won't be able to tell until then."

Hogan let out a deep breath, relieved.

"Will he be okay?"

"He should be after a week with complete rest, sir. As for his eye, after three days with sporadic ice packs, I'll check it again."

"Thanks, Joe."

"No problem. Sorry I can't give you better news."

Hogan smiled. "You gave me better news than I expected especially with Hotchner." With a nod towards his commanding officer, the medic left closing the door behind him leaving the officer alone.

Hogan straightened his posture and let out a deep breath. But he didn't get long to relax as someone else knocked on his door.

"Enter."

The door opened and Carter, without waiting for permission, looked into the room.

"Colonel, Gestapo's here," he said in a panicked voice. Hogan groaned as he didn't need another problem this soon. He had been hoping he would have a few hours at least.

"Thanks. Pass the word, I want everybody ready for a visit from our favorite man in black."

"Sure thing, Colonel," Carter replied. He paused a minute. "Sir, do you think we can fool Hochstetter?"

The American officer smirked. "We'll find out, won't we?" he asked.

"Guess so, sir," Carter replied. He closed the door leaving Hogan alone again. The colonel set about getting ready for the biggest performance of his life. Whether he succeeded would determine whether or not everything had been for naught.

* * *

The black Gestapo car, having driven through the front gates of Stalag 13, pulled up outside the Kommandantur, and Hochstetter wasted no time getting out of the back seat. Schneider emerged from the driver's seat. Hochstetter looked around the empty compound while grinding his lower jaw in anger. He glanced around and spotted Corporal Langenscheidt standing outside the Kommandantur, marched up the steps, and stormed past the young corporal. Langenscheidt saluted the major while trying to keep up with him as the major barged directly into Klink's office and then his quarters.

"Major Hochstetter, how may I be of service to you?"

Hochstetter didn't respond until he, having entered the Colonel's bedroom, stood beside the man's bed and glared at the sleeping officer. "Corporal Langenscheidt isn't it?" he asked without even looking at the man.

"Jawohl, Herr Major."

"Gut. Wake him up, corporal," demanded the Gestapo officer.

"But…but…"

"I said _wake him, corporal!"_ Hochstetter sneered glaring at the man which sent chills up the man's spine. Langenscheidt swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Jawohl." Langenscheidt shook Klink by his shoulder. "Herr Kommandant, wake up. Wake up, Herr Kommandant. Please wake up. Sir…you need to wake up now." All Klink did was grumble and turn over in his bed and remained asleep.

Langenscheidt tried shaking Klink's shoulder harder with no result. He looked apologetically at the major. "The Colonel is a deep sleeper, major," he admitted.

Hochstetter smirked. "More like a deep coma. I would expect that's how he spends the war." He reached over to the night table and grabbed an empty cup which had contained cocoa at one time. "I'll wait up sleeping beauty," he growled and slammed the cup on the floor shattering it into a thousand pieces. The Kommandant jerked awake in his bed, eyes wide fearing he had just been shot. He ran both hands up and down his body checking for wounds and finding none, heaved a sigh of relief. It was only then that he looked up and gasped seeing the Gestapo major glaring at him. He pushed himself further up in bed.

"Major Hochstetter, what are you…."

Before the major could speak, the obese shape of Sergeant Schultz came huffing and puffing into the Kommandant's bed chamber with his jacket unbuttoned, and trying to aim his rifle forward.

"Herr Kommandant…the Gestapo is…here…in camp…"

"I know, Schultz. You're too late as usual," Klink said annoyed. He then looked up at the major as he put in his monocle and plastered a phony smile on his face. "To what do I owe this visit from the Gestapo?"

"I demand a roll call of all the prisoners in Barracks Two immediately."

"But Herr Major," began Schultz. "Barracks Two is quarantined. The prisoners all have influenza."

"Bah! A trick by Hogan so he can escape! Klink, you will come with me to Barracks Two and demand a roll call at once!"

"Yes, major. Schultz, you will have all the prisoners come to attention at once for the major."

"But Kommandant…" said Schultz.

"Schultz, do as your told by the major and don't argue."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz replied saluting the colonel. To himself he was thinking… _Oh Boy!_

Hochstetter turned to say something to Klink and stopped. He noticed the Kommandant was wearing his dress uniform cap in addition to his pajamas and slippers, and was belting his bathrobe tightly around him. He also was wearing an ascot around his neck. He sharply saluted the major again while still wearing that sappy smile on his face.

"Is this the way you present yourself to a member of the Gestapo, Klink?"

"I didn't want to keep you waiting, sir."

"Bah!" Hochstetter rolled his eyes. He didn't have time for this.

"Schultz….." Klink muttered as he grabbed his swagger stick and stuck it under his arm.

With reluctance, Schultz and Langenscheidt led the way to Barracks Two with the others following.

* * *

The interior of Barracks Two was dark with all the prisoners in their bunks. But that all changed when the door without warning burst open, slamming against the wall. Schultz entered first with Langenscheidt behind him with his rifle pointed. Schultz turned on the overhead light illuminating the interior. Behind him was an enraged Hochstetter and a nervous Schneider. Lastly was Klink who stood in the doorway, afraid to enter due to the threat of the contagious disease inside and catching it. Hochstetter glared at all the prisoners quickly getting to their feet and standing in formation. His eyes didn't see who he had wanted to see.

The rumblings among the prisoners was ignored by Hochstetter and Schneider. But Schultz looked around apologetically.

"Achtung! All prisoners are to come to attention for roll call!"

"Morning already?" asked Carter rubbing his tired eyes.

"Go away, Schultz," said Olsen. "Just because you don't want to go to sleep doesn't mean we don't." He pulled the blanket over his head to try and shield his eyes from the overhead light, but Langenscheidt jerked back the blanket.

"On your feet, sergeant!" he ordered. Olsen reluctantly obliged.

Schultz looked at Hochstetter and shrugged as if silently asking what he should do now.

"I want them all awake, sergeant. _Now!"_

"Jawohl." Schultz banged his hand against Newkirk's bunk, then pulled the blanket off LeBeau's head. "Raus, Raus! All prisoners up at once!" Langenscheidt walked around the room roughly pulling blankets off of prisoners and ordering them to get to their feet.

Hochstetter watched the proceeding when a movement in the corner of the room caught his eye. The door to Hogan's private quarters opened and the colonel walked out into the common room belting his robe.

"What time is it?" he asked, yawning.

"It is time for you to admit you are Papa Bear," growled the major.

"You woke me up at this hour for that?" asked Hogan. "Major, I was preparing for a date with a gorgeous redhead."

"That's enough talk from you, Hogan," said Klink from the doorway. "Major Hochstetter demands a roll call and that's what he's going to get."

Hogan and the prisoners, though grumbling, now stood at attention except for Kinch who was still too weak to stand at the moment. Hogan became worried when he saw Langenscheidt approach Kinch's bunk and reaching out a hand preparing to grab the man by his injured shoulder. He knew if it was discovered Kinch had a gunshot injury, there would be no way he could explain it away. But just as Langenscheidt was about to touch the injured shoulder, Hochstetter stopped him.

"Never mind him, Corporal!" the major growled. "All the prisoners were white so we don't need him!" He then glared at Schneider. "Corporal, do you see any of our missing prisoners? Take your time." His eyes focused on Hogan exclusively. Hogan arched an eyebrow at the major, an amused smirk on his face.

Schneider looked carefully at each man, paying particular attention to Hogan and Olsen. Hogan's eyes followed the man as he moved on from man to man, and when he paused on Olsen, he worried what he would do if everything imploded at this point.

"Well?" growled Hochstetter impatiently. "Are they here or not?"

Schneider sighed. "I am sorry, Herr Major, but the three men in question are not here."

Hochstetter was aghast. "What do you mean they are not here?! They must be here! Look again!"

Swallowing nervously, Schneider again walked down the line of prisoners studying each man. After twenty minutes, he shook his head.

"I am sorry, Herr Major, but I don't see them. Nobody has any injuries from the beatings they received from Sergeant von Eisenburg."

Hochstetter marched so close to Hogan that the two men were nearly touching noses. The American looked down at the shorter man with amusement although he kept his face impassive.

"Can I get back to my date, major? But if it makes you feel better, you're welcome to chaperone."

The major was seething by this time. He spoke without turning. " _Schultz, count each man!"_

"Ja…Jawohl, major." Schultz stammered. He began counting. After several minutes, he reported the total to the major. In the background, Klink smiled happily when the correct number of prisoners were announced by his Sergeant-of-the-Guard.

" _You must be wrong! Count them again!"_

The obese guard counted the prisoners again and got the same number a second time. When he gave the Gestapo major the total, Hochstetter was not pleased.

" _Sergeant, is every man assigned to this barracks present and accounted for?"_

Schultz was puzzled. "Herr Major?"

"Is every man who belongs here actually here? I want to be certain every man here belongs here!" Hochstetter wasn't giving up yet. He just _knew_ Hogan was somehow involved and would prove it before he left Stalag 13. He looked at the obese guard who hadn't as yet moved. _"Do as I say!"_ he screamed.

Schultz swallowed the lump in his throat. "Jawohl…" He trudged along the line of prisoners and paused, eyes wide, when he came to the man dressed as a British Corporal. He immediately recognized him as not Newkirk, but as Corporal Duncan from Barracks 8. Aware Newkirk was still missing, he figured LeBeau and Hotchner were also. He glanced back at Hogan whose eyes stared hard at him from his place in line. Schultz spotted the warning hidden in the American officer's eyes. A warning which said if he dared cross Hogan there would be trouble. And it was a message that Schultz understood all too clearly.

He swallowed the large lump in his throat and continued going from man to man. He paused when he saw Corporal Dennison from Barracks 6 dressed as a French Corporal, and Sergeant Pelphrey from Barracks 12 who oddly enough, bore a resemblance to Hogan. Schultz finished his task, and glanced at Klink who didn't seem to spot the substitute prisoners as he was busy concentrating on Hogan and Hochstetter and didn't notice.

"Well, Schultz…?" asked the Gestapo major smugly. "Are the men who should be here all here?"

Schultz faced Hochstetter and swallowed hard.

"I'm waiting, sergeant…"

"Herr Major, there are fifteen prisoners assigned to this barracks, and I count fifteen prisoners here. Therefore, nobody is missing." But to himself he said _"Nein, I am not answering truthfully."_

"But this cannot be…!" Hochstetter hissed. "I know you are responsible for injuring Captain Fuchs and helping three prisoners escape, Hogan! I know you are behind it!"

Hogan arched an eyebrow. "Captain Fuchs got hurt? That's terrible. Who would do such a thing to a nice Gestapo officer like him?"

" _Hogan!"_ growled the major glaringly.

"Gee, Colonel," began Carter looking innocent. "Maybe somebody was sleepwalking." He looked past Hochstetter and at Klink. "Kommandant, does sleepwalking out the front gate count as an escape on your record?"

There were chuckles from Hogan and the other prisoners to Carter's remarks. Even Schultz smirked finding the remark amusing, but averted his face so the Kommandant and the Gestapo wouldn't notice. But Hochstetter and Schneider were not amused one bit.

Klink 'harrumphed' and shook his balled fist at the same time.

"Satisfied, major?" Hogan asked.

"I know you are responsible, Hogan," Hochstetter said through clenched teeth. "You think you've gotten away but I know you are involved somehow."

Just then a sound was heard that caught everybody's attention, especially Hochstetter.

"What is that?" he hissed looking around.

Hogan tensed and he, Carter, Olsen, and Baker exchanged nervous looks before Hogan's eyes gave a subtle look at the double bunk in the corner realizing the sound had come from below. It was the sound of somebody in pain.

* * *

Wilson, LeBeau and Newkirk were below keeping a watchful eye on Hotchner who was beginning to thrash about on a bunk and moaning. He was showing signs of coming out of the effects of the sedative.

"Quiet, Mon ami," whispered LeBeau leaning over the injured man. "They will hear you upstairs."

Hotchner moaned again somewhat louder this time. It couldn't be helped.

"Blimey, mate," said Newkirk to Wilson. "Can't you give 'im something before he leads the Germans down here?"

"I can't give him anything at this point," Wilson pointed out. "If I do it's likely to cause an overdose and kill him."

"Blimey." Newkirk could only think of one thing. He put his hand over Hotchner's mouth to quiet him and hopefully muffle the man's moaning.

"What are you doing, Pierre?"

"I'm trying to keep the bloody Krauts from finding us, Louie. You heard Wilson. He can't give 'im anything. So unless you got a better idea, this is the only thing we can do and hope for the best."

* * *

"I heard moaning, sir," Schneider said looking around the room. "It sounded like somebody was in pain."

"So did I," admitted Hochstetter. He looked around the room and in the direction on the double bunk. "And it's coming from this direction," he added looking at the bunk in question.

Hogan watched as the major walked around the room and in the direction of the double bunk in the corner. Despite how nervous he was, the American officer kept his face neutral while he prayed for a miracle.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal feeling exhausted. He hated leaving off at a crucial point in which it all could go down the drain in minutes, but he needed a short break.

He had to admit he was more than impressed with Hogan and his men. His own team when working a case, worked under severe stress but only occasionally. Hogan and his men not only worked under much more pressure than his own team did, but did it on a daily basis. That alone was something to marvel at as far as he was concerned.

He was about to start reading again when the ringing of his house telephone made him pause. With a look at his watch, he had a very good idea as to who was calling him.


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

Hotch got to his feet and hurried to reach the telephone before the ringing stopped. He knew who usually called around this time, and he didn't want Jack to hang up on him. Reaching the phone, he did spot Jack's name on the Caller ID, and snatched up the receiver.

"Hotchner."

"Hi, daddy."

"Hi, Jack. How are you? You being a good boy for Grandpa Roy, Grandma Ruth, and Aunt Jess?"

"Yeah." He noticed something strange in Jack's voice right away.

"Jack, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm okay. But something's wrong with grandpa."

Hotch's eyes narrowed. He feared Roy suffered an episode with his Alzheimers in front of his son. He realized Jack is too small to understand the full effects of the degenerative disease. And the only thing he told Jack to this point is that Roy suffered from memory problems and often forgot things. He only hoped something worse didn't happen.

"What's wrong with grandpa?"

"We'd gone to the barn to see the cows, and Grandpa Roy didn't remember their names. He knew them yesterday but didn't today. It scared me."

"Jack, remember when I told you Grandpa Roy has problems remembering things? Well, this is one of those times. He's going to have days when he remembers things that he won't remember the next day. But you don't have to be afraid of him, son."

"Daddy, will grandpa not remember me one day?"

Hotch sighed. He always feared one day Jack will become a complete stranger to Roy as would his late daughter Haley, and even his surviving daughter Jessica. His only hope is that today is not the day as he wanted Jack to spend time as much time with his grandfather as possible. Once Roy's memory faded, he'd refuse to allow his son to be around him. The child would only be frightened further.

"I promise that won't happen for a long time," Hotch explained hoping he did not lie to his son.

The silence on the other end told Hotch his son took a few minutes to think about what his dad had told him.

"Jack, did you hang up the phone?"

"No. Daddy, Aunt Jess wants to talk to you."

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon, Buddy. Keep in mind that if you need me to come and get you, you call me and I'll come and bring you home. Okay?"

"Okay, daddy. Here's Aunt Jess."

An exchange of words took place between his son and Jess in the background as he waited for a reply.

"Aaron?"

"Jess, be honest with me. Is Roy okay? Do I need to come out and pick up Jack and bring him home with me?"

"He holding his own right now. We're trying a different medication. Believe me, there's no way I'd let my nephew be around him if he was having a major episode. Right now he's just having a few memory lapses similar to the one he did with the cows and it scared Jack. But once the new meds kick in, he should be alright. But so far he's said nothing about you to or in front of Jack. He's aware I would keep his grandson from him if he did."

"I trust you completely. Please don't hesitate to call me despite the time, day or night, if need be."

"You have my word."

"Thanks. Tell Jack I love and miss him, and can't wait until he's back home again. Also, he can call me anytime he wants or needs to talk to me."

Jessica laughed. "He calls you daily in the evening as it is."

"I know. And I live for those daily phone calls. I enjoy my talks with him as much as I'm sure he does. It's like having him home."

Hotch suddenly heard his son shouting something unintelligible in the background to his sister-in-law.

"Aaron, I have to hang up now. Jack wants my attention for something. I'll give him your message. Have a good night."

"Thanks, you too. Tell Jack goodnight for me."

"I will. Goodbye."

"Bye." Hotch hung up the phone. He really did enjoy his daily phone calls with Jack. It was a gratifying way to end each night before he went to sleep, hearing his son's voice. He couldn't wait for his little boy to be home again, so he could hold him in his arms and hold him against his body.

With a sigh, Hotch returned to his recliner, picked up the journal, and began to read from where he had left off earlier.

 _ **(Stalag 13 – A Few Minutes Later):**_

Hochstetter walked close to the double bunk in the corner unaware Kinch was watching him with eyes open barely a slit. The black man didn't have to see Hogan's face to know the officer was becoming tenser the closer the Gestapo officer came to the double bunk. Despite his current situation, he had to do something to help his friends. He observed Hochstetter standing at the foot of his bunk looking around trying to figure out where the sound had come from when an idea came to him.

Kinch limply turned his head in Hogan's direction and let his barely open eyes meet those of his commanding officer. Nobody noticed Kinch's eyes were barely open except Hogan. His face was drenched with sweat, and in obvious pain as he was past due receiving his next injection of pain meds for his wounded shoulder. The look in his eyes told Hogan that he knew what was going on below. He moaned loudly to mask the sound coming from below and make it appear the sound was coming from him, hoping Hochstetter believed it.

Hearing the same sound from behind him, the major turned around and looked at Kinch. He leaned over and studied the man's sweaty face and spotted his head turning back-and-forth apparently in discomfort.

"What is wrong with him?" he asked out loud turning his stare on Hogan.

"He had the worst case of flu in the barracks. He still has a fever and needs another round of medication," explained Hogan.

Hochstetter smirked at the American and offered him a twisted sneer.

"One day, Hogan. One day you will go too far and I will be there when you do," he added.

"Thanks for the warning, major. Now if you'll excuse me, I do have a redhead waiting for me. Of course the offer to chaperone still stands."

" _BAH!"_

The major abruptly turned and stormed out of the barracks, shoving past Schultz and Klink. Schneider turned and hurried to catch up with his commanding officer as he stormed toward his vehicle, anxious to escape Stalag 13 as quickly as possible.

Hogan looked at Klink. "Can we go back to bed now, sir? We have roll call in a few hours."

"Hogaaaaaaannnn!" Klink stammered marching into the barracks momentarily forgetting about the quarantine. "Why would Major Hochstetter accuse you of being involved with trouble at Gestapo Headquarters?"

Hogan shrugged. "How the hell should I know? Maybe he has an unhealthy obsession with me?"

"Somehow I think it's more than that. I said before that things have been too quiet around here, and that you are up to something."

Hogan arched both eyebrows as he looked at his German counterpart. He feigned looking hurt. "You hurt my feelings, sir. If I did what the major accused me of, would I come back here with it being the first place he'd look?"

Klink sighed. "No, not really. I'm sorry."

Hogan grinned. "Apology accepted. See, I'm a very forgiving person."

"Hogan, what am I supposed to do?"

"Well, sir, the first thing you, Schultz, and Langenscheidt should do is leave the barracks." He noticed the German looking at him, puzzled. "In case you forgot, sir, this barracks is quarantined."

Then the problem returned to Klink who turned his glare on Schultz.

"Schultz, why did you let me enter the barracks knowing it was quarantined?" he hissed.

Schultz's eyes widened. "Me, Herr Kommandant?"

"Yes, you."

Klink turned and stormed out of the barracks, with Schultz and Langenscheidt following. He and Schultz were still arguing.

"Now I shall have to call Doctor Prust and have him come out to examine me for influenza," Klink babbled.

As the three Germans continued walking away, still arguing, Olsen closed the door but kept watch in case they returned. He glanced behind him and saw Hogan stride toward the double bunk in the corner and strike the side of the upper bed frame twice. The lower bunk rose and the ladder dropped. The officer stepped over the lower bed frame, and climbed down the ladder until he reached the bottom rung. When his feet hit the dirt floor, he hurried down the tunnel as quickly as his slippers would allow. He soon reached the room where he found Newkirk with his hand still covering Hotchner's mouth, LeBeau and Wilson.

"Everything okay upstairs, Gov'nor?" asked the Englander.

"It's fine. That was quick thinking on your part to try and muffle Hotchner's moans," Hogan replied taking in the scene in front of him. "We're lucky Kinch heard it as well and moaned in order to pretend it was him Hochstetter heard. Fortunately Hochstetter bought it."

Newkirk removed his hand and let out a sigh. "I couldn't think of anything else to do, sir."

Hogan smiled a small smile as he looked at Wilson. "How is he, Joe?" indicating Hotchner.

"He started coming around which counts for the sounds you heard upstairs. He should probably come out of it in about an hour or so, sir."

Hogan nodded and turned back to the two corporals. "You two…I want you back upstairs within the next thirty minutes." He turned to the medic. "Joe, once Hotchner is awake, I want him back upstairs as well. I need to get those stand-ins back to their own barracks and get things back to normal around here. I can't stall Klink forever."

LeBeau smiled. "Pierre and I will be right up, Colonel."

Newkirk glanced at Hotchner and Wilson, then Hogan. "What about Hotchner, sir. I mean if Wilson should need help with him…"

"Don't worry, Newkirk," interrupted Wilson. "If I need help, I'll have Anderson or one of the other guys help me."

Hogan let out a deep breath as he studied Newkirk and LeBeau. "I'll see you guys upstairs soon."

"Yes sir," the Englander replied. "It'll be good to sleep in me own bunk for once, lumps and all, sir."

Hogan chuckled, turned, and headed back to the tunnel entrance. When he reached the ladder, he climbed upstairs and struck the side of the upper bed frame. The ladder rose and the lower bunk dropped down covering the tunnel opening. Carter hurried over to his commanding officer.

"Is everybody okay below, sir?" he asked, worried.

"They're fine," Hogan replied. "In fact, they should be joining us in the barracks soon." He turned his attention to the three prisoners who had taken their places. "Once they're back up here, you guys can return to your barracks."

* * *

Within the following hour, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Hotchner, their movements a bit slow because of their injuries, made their way up the ladder and into the barracks. The other prisoners surrounded them with pats on the back as they welcomed them back home. At the same time, Duncan, Dennison and Pelphrey returned to their own barracks.

Hogan turned and collapsed onto a bench at the table. He removed his crush cap, ran a hand over his hair, and put the cap back on his head.

"I need to lay down," he said suddenly sounding weary.

"Colonel, you all right?" asked a panicked Garlotti touching the colonel's shoulder.

"Everyone needs to get some sleep. Roll call will be here in a couple of hours," Hogan answered as he got to his feet and staggered toward his quarters. He opened his door and disappeared inside closing it without another word to the men.

"I hope the Colonel's all right," Baker said, worried. "Maybe he's coming down with something."

A small smile appeared on Olsen's face. "He'll be okay after he gets some much needed rest. It's nearly four in the morning, we all need some sleep."

"How do you know, Brian?" asked Simpson. "Something could really be wrong with him."

"He just needs to decompress is all," added Olsen, understanding. "Besides, you had to be there and go through it like we did to understand."

Now that the three injured men were all back in their barracks, and the stand-ins back in theirs, they immediately went to their own bunks and stretched out to relax. And despite the lumpy mattresses, all three men were glad to be resting on them instead of in a Gestapo cell.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Closing the journal, Hotch lay it in his lap. It was not because he needed a break from reading, but because he couldn't get the telephone conversation with Jack out of his mind. This conversation was so unlike the nightly ones they had since the boy had gone to visit his grandparents. The normal conversations consisted of but not limited to what Jack did that day to playing with his cousins. But regardless, Hotch couldn't deny the fact he was worried about the boy being with his grandfather as the elderly man's Alzheimers slowly became worse.

He wasn't afraid the elderly man would hurt his son. Roy loved Jack with all his heart, and Jack adored both his grandparents. That and the fact Jack was his only link to Haley. But what he did worry about was Roy's Alzheimers flaring up causing an episode that was worse than this last one. Would his condition be a slow steady onset or would he take a major turn for the worse? Only time would tell. It also made him think about what he would do when the time came Roy no longer remembered his late daughter or Jack. And he knew that day would come eventually as his disease progressed. But what he worried about the most was how could he explain it to Jack especially as the child wasn't old enough to understand the ramifications of Alzheimers, much less the disease?

He knew right now he could trust Jessica to protect Jack should anything happen, but he couldn't rely on that all the time. Nor could he rely on Jess's mother to protect Jack all the time as both women had lives of their own to live. He also knew one day Roy would need more help than either woman could offer currently. His only hope was that it wouldn't be for a long time yet giving him time to explain it to and prepare his son for what was expected.


	43. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43**

The following morning Rossi walked through the double Plexiglas doors of the BAU. Looking upward, he wasn't surprised to find Aaron Hotchner in his corner office seated at his desk hard at work. A small smile graced his face. He glanced around the bullpen and found Emily, Reid, and Morgan seated at their desks working. He was sure that JJ and Garcia were in their respective offices working as well. After he walked up the steps leading to the catwalk, he paused in the doorway of Hotch's office as the door was open. He tapped on the door frame causing Hotch to glance upward.

"Hey," Hotch greeted the older man and returned to his open case file.

"Hey, yourself," Rossi said as he stepped inside the younger man's office and took a seat on the sofa. He sat his briefcase next to him, and rested his outstretched arms on the back of the sofa. He remained quiet and patiently watched the Unit Chief work. After a few minutes, Hotch looked up to find Rossi staring at him.

"What?" he asked with arched eyebrows.

"Nothing. I only wondered how your day off went? Read something of interest?"

"In fact I did," Hotch folded his hands together, and looked directly at the older man. "Hogan's plan to free his men worked perfectly."

"So the men who were captured are back at Stalag 13 now?"

"They are. In fact, Hochstetter came out to the prison camp and left somewhat angry but empty-handed."

Rossi raised an eyebrow. "So Hogan fooled Hochstetter?"

"He did."

"How did Fuchs make out?"

The Unit Chief paused for a few minutes. "He did his part in the plan as he and Hogan arranged to rescue the guys. He's been faking being unconscious so he won't be able to answer Hochstetter's questions, and was taken to a hospital."

"But he's okay?"

"Far as I can tell he's fine. Hogan hit him on the head with the butt of his weapon as part of his plan to stage his being injured, but he looks to be okay."

Rossi nodded. "Good. Aaron, there's something I need to say."

"Sounds serious. What is it?" The Unit Chief became concerned as the older man's tone was indicative that what he had to say was serious.

"I can't go into detail right now, but I want you to know I may be onto something which, if it works out, may give us several answers."

Hotch was now intrigued. "Care to give me a hint?"

"Not yet. I want to first find out if it bears fruit before I tell you, so you'll have to wait for a while. Sorry."

"That's okay," the Unit Chief said regretfully. "Just so you know, even if it doesn't work out, I'm grateful. I'll keep my fingers crossed in the interim that it does; work out that is."

Rossi nodded and started to his feet, grabbing his briefcase. "Well, I guess I better get to my office and start on those nagging case files waiting for me."

"Good thinking," Hotch said with a chuckle, picked up his pen, and resumed working on the open file in front of him.

But before Rossi could leave, a grim-looking JJ walked through the doorway holding a folder in her hands. She stopped short as she nearly collided with the older man.

"Sorry," she said about to move aside so the senior agent could leave.

"Excuse me," Rossi said with a grin. Ever the gentleman, he moved aside and gestured for the blonde to enter first.

"What is it, JJ?" Hotch asked looking past Rossi at the blonde now standing in front of him. Rossi stood near the doorway, waiting and watching.

"Sorry, Hotch, but we have a case," the petite blonde explained. "Looks like a bad one."

Hotch sighed. To him, whenever the media liaison told them the case was a 'bad one,' that usually meant only one thing….the case involved children. And the team as a whole despised those, especially Hotch and JJ being the only members with kids.

"Okay. Gather everybody in the conference room. We'll be there shortly."

"Right away," the liaison replied hurrying past Rossi and to gather the rest of her team.

Rossi looked back at Hotch. "I'll join you as soon as I drop off my briefcase in my office."

"No problem," Hotch answered getting to his feet. _Well,_ he thought to himself, _reading anything more of the journal's going to have to wait until I get back._

* * *

Garcia entered the conference room walking as fast as her platform heels would allow, and sat in an empty chair between Morgan and Prentiss. Whenever she joined the others in the conference room, she always sat beside Morgan. Reid sat across from Morgan looking through the file he had just received on the case. JJ placed files for the new case in front of each of the other agents, and one in front of the empty chairs designated for Hotch and Rossi who were absent for the moment.

"Where's Hotch and Rossi?" Garcia asked looking around, mystified.

"Right here, Penelope," answered Rossi as he entered the room with Hotch behind him. The older man sat down beside Reid while Hotch sat beside his friend and at the head of the table. Both men immediately opened the file to peruse the facts.

Once everybody had the file open in front of them, JJ stood in front of the white screen holding a remote control in her hand. Pressing a button, the pictures of three smiling ten-year-old children appeared on the screen side-by-side.

"This is Angelica Holmes, Cecilia Bassett, and Jeremy Hatchett. All three disappeared on their way home from school on three separate days, and were found buried in separate locations ten days later. All three had been tortured and strangled. There were no signs of sexual assault," she explained. "Chief Anthony Grimes of the Macon, Georgia police department has requested our help."

"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch announced as he got to his feet. (1)

* * *

The team's Gulf port jet was headed to Macon, Georgia. Hotch sat next to a window seat alone with the rest of the team, minus Garcia who remained behind in Quantico, behind him. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out his cell phone and scrolled down the list of contacts until he found the one he wanted, and pressed the button. He put the phone to his ear and listened to the ringing. He hoped the person was home.

Someone did pick up on the third ring.

"Hello?" said a female voice.

"Jess, its Aaron."

"Is something wrong, Aaron?" Jessica Brooks started to panic. Her brother-in-law never called this early unless something were amiss.

"Nothing's wrong. I just called to let you know we have a case, and we're on our way to Macon, Georgia, so I won't be home for a few days. Please tell Jack I'll call him the first chance I have."

Jessica sensed a touch of sadness in her brother-in-law's voice.

"What is it? And don't tell me nothing because I can hear it in your voice."

Hotch sighed. "This case concerns kids."

"I'm sorry." Jessica knew how since he became a father, Hotch hated cases with people who targeted children. He hated them prior to that, but even more so now. And she understood how he felt. She shared the same feeling and wished the scum could be wiped off the face of the earth. But her brother-in-law eliminated them even if only one at a time. "I'll tell Jack you called. Please be careful."

"I will. And thanks, Jess. Goodbye."

"Bye, Aaron."

Jessica hung up the phone on her end. Hotch slid the phone back inside his inner jacket pocket, left his seat, walked down the aisle, and sat down across from Rossi in the back of the jet. The older man looked at his friend seeing the emotion in his dark eyes, and despite not having children of his own, understood.

"You speak with Jack?" he asked.

Hotch sighed. "I spoke with Jess and told her I would call Jack when I got the chance as we were heading out of town on a case."

Rossi nodded and let a smile appear. "You're such a good dad, Aaron."

The Unit Chief shrugged. Despite the compliment, Hotch didn't consider himself a good father as he spent more time away than with his son. He felt Jack deserved better than a part-time dad who spent more time traveling with his job than being home. But the child was never far from in his thoughts and mind.

Rossi studied the younger man and noticed the frown. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

Hotch looked at his friend. "To be honest, sometimes I feel I've let Jack down by not being there for him full-time. I feel he's being cheated because he needs a dad who's going to be there for him, and I'm gone so much."

"You are there for him. And while it's true the job takes up a lot of your time, when you're home you devote yourself one hundred percent to your son. He knows you love him and you do all you can to make sure you come home to him from a case." He saw the doubt still lingering on his friend's face. "You son loves you, don't ever doubt that. You are his hero and somebody who catches the bad guys."

The older man saw his friend was paying attention, so he continued. "You're trying bit by bit to make the world a safer place for Jack and other children. Trust me, Aaron. I wouldn't say you're a good dad if it weren't true."

A small smile graced Hotch's face. "Thanks, Dave. You always seem to know what I need to hear."

Rossi smirked. "You're welcome."

* * *

Based on Garcia's research, their UnSub turned out to be a male school crossing guard named Henry Burrell whose own ten-year-old child had been abducted and killed three years earlier. But despite their search they had been unable to locate the man. He seemed to have disappeared. When they returned to their hotel rooms later that night, Hotch showered, put on his pajamas, and called Jack before he went to sleep for the night. He always needed to hear his voice after he solved a case involving kids. They talked for over an hour until his eyes drew tired. He hoped now that they knew who they were looking for, they'd be able to find him as another child had disappeared earlier that same day. They needed to find Burrell and the child, Steven Mason, before the child ended up as the others had before him.

It took the team seven days to catch their UnSub and save Steven Mason. Then in the evening of the same day, the team headed back to Quantico.

Hotch again sat in a window seat alone going over the report of their completed case. Rossi sat facing him on the opposite side of a table watching his friend work. It always troubled him that Hotch was working even when a case was solved, and never allowed himself to relax even after a case was completed.

Prentiss sat behind him reading a magazine, while JJ, who sat beside her, was wrapped in a blanket catching up on some sleep, her head pressing against the window. Morgan sat facing Prentiss wearing his headset and listening to jazz with his eyes closed, giving the impression he might be asleep. And Reid, seated beside him, was engrossed in a science magazine and oblivious to everyone and everything around him.

Tiredly, Rossi got to his feet and walked to the kitchen area in the back of the jet where they kept various snacks, sodas, juice, water, and alcohol. Reaching inside a lower cabinet, he pulled out a half-filled bottle of Scotch then reached up and removed two Tumblers from an upper cabinet. He poured some Scotch into each Tumbler before returning the bottle back to the lower cabinet. Picking up the glasses he returned to his seat. He put one glass in front of Hotch before he sat back down in his own seat. He raised his glass eye-level and grinned.

"What are we toasting?" asked Hotch as he closed his folder and picked up his glass. He sensed Rossi was trying to take his mind off of work if only for a short time.

"We're toasting saving the life of a child and taking another monster off the streets."

"I'll drink to that." He and Rossi raised their glasses and took a sip of the amber liquor. Hotch savored the burning liquid as it slid down his throat causing Rossi's grin to widen.

As the older man was about to take another sip, his cell phone beeped indicating he had received a text message. Sitting his glass on the table, he reached inside his jacket and removed his cell as Hotch watched. The older man read the message just received and grinned. It was from Bobby Hogan stating he and his wife were now home.

"From your smile I assume that text was one you were expecting?" asked Hotch with a smirk. It was a well-known fact throughout the Bureau that Rossi was a ladies man. In fact, many in the Bureau believed the Non-Fraternization rules of the job were created mainly because of his friend.

"You assume correctly. I have waited several days to hear from Bobby."

Thinking 'Bobby' was a girl, the Unit Chief smirked. "So you're going to call this Bobby when you get home and set up a get-together I trust?"

"You can count on it, my friend."

Hotch took a sip of his drink. "For your sake I hope this person is worth your time."

Rossi chuckled as he looked at the young agent. "Oh I can guarantee you Bobby will be worth it."

* * *

(1) 'Wheels up in thirty' is Hotch's catch-phrase. In this case it is referring to letting the team know that their jet will be taking off in thirty minutes.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

The minute the jet landed, Hotch gave his team orders to not only go home and rest, but not to report for work the next day until nine-thirty. This case proved intense and draining for everybody, and he felt the team needed time to unwind. So he informed them that the paperwork on this case can wait until the following day. Nobody needed to be told twice. Of course he did not apply that order to himself. So after they deplaned, Hotch found his car in its parking space, and drove straight to the FBI building and into the underground garage.

When he arrived, he took the elevator up to the sixth floor and got out. While they were in Macon, Georgia, the journal remained in his middle desk drawer at work, and he wanted to find out how and if Fuchs handled Hochstetter. He walked through the double Plexiglas doors of the BAU and strode across the floor until he came to the stairs. He then walked up the steps leading to the catwalk and entered his office.

Once seated behind his desk, he opened the middle drawer, removed the journal, and opened it to the page where he left off and began to read.

 _ **(Local Hospital in the Morning– Hammelburg):**_

Hochstetter paced back and forth in the hallway outside Fuchs' hospital room. The major arrived after eight in the morning, and demanded he be told Fritz's condition. But the nurse on duty told him he needed to speak with Doctor Prust if he wanted to be told the captain's condition. The nurse added that Doctor Prust, now examining the captain, will speak with him once done. The major grumbled as he began to pace impatiently as he realized he didn't have any choice but to wait. And the major did not handle waiting well as his subordinates acknowledged.

He refused to admit to anyone how terrified he'd been the entire time while driving to the hospital. Afraid he'd find out, once there, that his friend suffered a gunshot wound to his head, and is either dead or dying. So from the moment he started out to the hospital from Stalag 13, he kept a tight rein on his emotions. He needed this to be one of the most important times he needed to keep a level head enabling him to investigate and keep Hogan from getting away this time. Nobody will ever convince him the American might be innocent.

Impatient to get the answers he sought as to what happened in Gestapo Headquarters, he nearly barged into Fuchs' room despite the doctor's exam. And even if Hogan proved not to be a prisoner of theirs; something he still doubted despite what Schneider said, he didn't put it past the man to injure Fuchs. And he will add attempted murder to the growing list of charges he will gladly file against him when he arrested him.

He was determined this time to finally prove to his superiors in Berlin he had been right all along about the American POW. Right all along that he was indeed the most dangerous man in Germany, and that he was responsible for all the sabotage in a ten-mile radius of Stalag 13. And not that he was seeking a promotion from this, but the thought did cross his mind. But proving himself to have been right all along was more important. But if an award and a promotion was bestowed on him afterward, it would just be an added reward.

He stopped his reverie and pacing when the door at last opened, and Prust walked into the corridor closing the door behind him. The doctor confronted the Gestapo major.

"How is he, doctor?" Hochstetter asked, concern obvious on his face.

"He's conscious and that is always a good sign." He sensed the major's question and answered it before it was asked. "He was not shot in the head as we feared, major, but was struck very hard with something heavy. Unfortunately that blow to his head has caused trouble with his memory."

Relief showed on Hochstetter's face and he breathed a sigh of relief at the news. "What do you mean trouble with his memory?" Relief immediately turned to concern. There had to be something that could be done. He couldn't let Hogan get away when he was so close. So close.

"What I mean is he doesn't remember what happened to him," said Prust gently.

Hochstetter ground his lower jaw. _"But he must remember!"_ the major said raising his voice. "He is the only witness to an incident which happened in Gestapo headquarters, and I need answers. When will he get his memory back?!"

Prust sighed. He was used to dealing with officers like Hochstetter without losing his composure. "It's impossible to say right now. It could return completely; it may return in pieces; or it may never come back. There's just no way to tell with a head injury."

The major growled his displeasure and Prust could see the man was trying with much difficulty not to lose his composure and his temper. With what he knew and had heard about the major, Hochstetter was most dangerous when he lost control because one never knew what he was likely to do. And the lives of both Papa Bear and Fuchs depended on him as a doctor maintaining control of the major.

"I am sorry, major," he said regretfully.

Hochstetter tensed. He believed if he could talk to Fuchs, maybe he could trigger his memory. The arrest of Hogan and anyone else involved depended on it, and he desperately wanted the proof. In fact, even though he would never admit it, Fuchs was the last hope he had to arrest the American Colonel. If Hogan wasn't involved then whoever was needed to be arrested. He needed the memories locked inside Fuchs' head and he was determined to pry them loose. Closing this case depended on what was locked inside the captain's head.

"Can I see him, doctor?" he asked.

"Follow me, major," Prust said as he walked back into the patient's room with the major following. He knew Hochstetter would try and push Fuchs to remember so he can catch Papa Bear, but he refused to let that happen. So he would remain in the room out of the way while the major questioned Fuchs. This would be mainly because he needed to protect both his patient and Hogan as best he could.

Hochstetter gasped when he saw his friend lying so still in bed with a gauze wrapped around his head, and attached to an IV bag hanging from a pole. Then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Fuchs turn his head in his direction, and offer a weak smile.

"Major…" The captain said softly.

Hochstetter offered his friend a faint smile of his own as he moved closer to the bed until he stood beside it. Prust stepped back until he stood beside the door and against the wall out of the way, and crossed his arms. He subtly nodded at Fuchs to make him aware he was there in case he needed a break from all the questions they both knew the major would ask.

"Fritz…how are you feeling?" asked the major.

Fuchs let out a deep breath. "Head hurts…"

Hochstetter chuckled. "I don't doubt it, my friend. You always did have a hard head." He paused for a moment to gather himself. "Doctor Prust tells me you will recover fully, and for that I am grateful." He paused again wanting to arrange his words correctly in his mind. "Fritz, are you up to answering several questions for me about what happened? I want to find out not only who did this to you, but what happened at Headquarters."

Fuchs' eyes narrowed. "Something happened?"

"A guard was killed and two others are missing. Also, three prisoners are missing. Do you remember what happened? It's important that you tell me everything you can."

Fuchs scrunched his face as he was trying hard to remember. But unfortunately nothing came to mind; his mind was a complete blank. Of course the headache pounding in his head wasn't helping.

"I'm sorry but I don't remember anybody being killed or any guards going missing." He paused and swallowed the growing lump in his throat. "I take it my injury occurred when our man was killed and the others went missing? When was this exactly? Maybe that will help jog my memory."

Hochstetter felt a tremor of apprehension begin to rear its ugly head inside him. He licked his lower lip nervously.

"This took place last night. The prisoners were arrested two days ago. I need you to remember, Fritz." The major sounded desperate to Fuchs and he began to feel sorry for the man. Almost.

But try as he might, his mind was still foggy. He looked apologetically at his superior.

"I am sorry, Herr Major. I just don't remember what happened. In fact, I don't even recall getting injured." He studied Hochstetter's eyes. "Out of curiosity, exactly how did I become injured? What happened to me?"

"You were struck on the head. I was originally afraid that you had been shot. Thankfully you were not."

Fuchs looked confused as he mulled over Hochstetter's words. "You said somebody had been killed? Who was it?"

"Corporal Braun."

"Corporal Braun is dead?" Fuchs took a moment appearing to digest the information.

"Ja. He was shot to death. And Sergeant von Eisenburg and Private Vogel are missing. Captain, your weapon showed you fired a single shot. Did you shoot Corporal Braun by chance? And if you did…why?"

"Major, I have no memory of firing my weapon, and I certainly think I would remember if I shot one of my own men. Again, I am sorry but I have no recollection of any of this. You also said two guards are missing. What happened to them if I may ask?"

"I do not know. That is why I need you to tell me what happened and who did this. Was it Hogan?"

There was a pause for a few minutes as Fuchs mulled things over in his head. He slowly shook his head careful not to aggravate his head injury. "I'm sorry, sir, but the last thing I remember was a kiss goodbye from Lilly before I went to work Monday morning. Seems I'm missing two days."

Hochstetter's frustration was now showing through. " _I need you to remember, Fritz! You must tell me if Hogan was involved! Is he responsible for injuring you and killing Corporal Braun? I need to know!"_ He was totally losing control now.

Prust could see from where he stood the major was rapidly losing the battle to control himself and about to go ballistic. Even Fuchs could see his boss was losing control. He covered his mouth intentionally failing at hiding a wide yawn. Both Prust and Hochstetter could tell Fuchs was tiring, but only Prust knew the captain was faking his tiredness. He decided it was time to intervene on the captain's behalf, and stepped forward.

"Major, Captain Fuchs is tiring and needs his rest. So I must insist your questioning of him stop immediately." He gently gripped the major's arm. But Hochstetter jerked his arm away and gently shook Fuchs' shoulder as the captain's eyes started to close.

"Nein! Fritz, you cannot sleep right now! I need answers! I need to know if Hogan was involved so I can arrest him. I have my suspicions but I need you to confirm it! _Fritz!"_

Fuchs' eyes slowly opened reluctantly to the shaking of his shoulder. But before he could say anything, Prust gripped Hochstetter's wrist and removed the major's hand from his patient's shoulder.

" _Major Hochstetter, I'm afraid I must insist you cease and desist as of this moment or I shall have security remove you from this hospital!"_ Prust said. He didn't hesitate to throw his weight around, and even the Gestapo didn't argue with him. He was known to give as good as he got and it didn't matter against whom.

Hochstetter looked at the doctor and saw the man's harsh glare and realized he had overstepped his bounds. He hoped his insistence of wanting to prove Hogan's guilt hadn't jeopardized Fuchs' recovery in any way.

"I…I must apologize, Herr Doctor," the major said struggling to get control of his emotions. "I am not usually like this, but this man is a dear friend and I want the man responsible. Again, I apologize."

Prust loosened his hold on the major's arm and offered him a small smile. "I understand, major. But as I told you, Captain Fuchs needs his rest."

"I understand. How long will he be hospitalized if I may ask?" Hochstetter still held onto a slim hope once Fuchs was home, perhaps his memory would come back and he could get the proof he sought. He wasn't quite ready to give up yet. He glanced back at Fuchs and assumed he was sleeping. But Prust again sensed what the major was thinking.

"If there are no changes overnight, he can go home tomorrow. But for now I must insist that you leave and come back later," he said. "I don't want to risk his recovery by becoming agitated or upset by your continual questioning and outbursts," he added.

Hochstetter sighed and reluctantly nodded. He allowed the doctor to lead him in the direction of the closed door. Neither man noticed Fuchs watching with barely open eyes.

As Prust opened the door and held it open for the major, he released the man's arm and patted him on the back glancing at the man as they walked down the long corridor.

"I understand Captain Fuchs is married?" Prust asked.

Hochstetter froze as his eyes widened in horror. _Oh shit!_ he thought to himself. _I forgot to call Lilly and tell her._ A small smile suddenly appeared on his face. "Ja. She will be here as soon as she can get somebody to look after their baby," he lied. He knew what the first thing was he needed to do after he left the hospital.

"Gut," Prust replied. "He will be happy to see her."

Hochstetter struck out his hand and Prust shook it.

"Danke, Herr Doctor. Bitte, please take gut care of Fritz. Right now I need to check in with my office. I shall come by again later."

Prust watched as the major walked away and kept watching until the major had exited the hospital completely before he returned to his patient's room.

* * *

Several minutes later, Prust walked into Fuchs' room to see the captain smiling at him and looking somewhat more alert than he did during Hochstetter's visit.

"You seem to be more awake now. Feeling better?"

"I am, Michael. Is the major gone finally?"

Prust stood next to the bed and folded his arms across his chest. He grinned. "Ja. He said he needed to get back to his office. And from the look on his face, I suspect he forgot to contact Lilly and tell her you're here."

Fuchs groaned. He could just imagine that conversation and how it would go. "She is going to kill me when she finds out," he said.

Prust chuckled. "Maybe I can talk to her when she arrives and assure her you will be fine. Hopefully I can calm her down before she sees you."

"Danke. But somehow I don't think even knowing I'll fully recover will calm her down that much."

The doctor chuckled and shook his head. Something had amused him other than what they had just discussed. "You know, Fritz, it's not nice to lie to your commanding officer like you just did."

Fuchs smirked and there was a twinkle in his blue eyes. "I didn't lie, Michael."

The doctor's eyes widened at that statement. "If you didn't lie, what would you call it then?"

"Selective amnesia."

The doctor arched both eyebrows in surprise. It was an answer he didn't expect from the man.

"What exactly is selective amnesia?"

Fuchs smirked. "Selective amnesia is when I select what I want to remember."

Both men smiled as the intent behind that statement became clear.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Rossi walked through his front door letting it shut behind him. As he tossed his keys in the dish on the table beside the front door, a smile appeared as he heard the sound of claws on the parquet floor. His black Lab, Mudgie, came bolting into the living room and ran up to him. The dog stood up on his hind legs, tail wagging excitedly having not seen his master in a week. He whined and stuffed his muzzle against Rossi's hand as the man scratched the dog's head. He was as glad to be home as his dog was to have him home.

"Good boy. I missed you as much as you missed me," Rossi said as he ran his hand up and down the dog's head. "Okay, get down, fella. Down." He smiled as the dog obediently sat down and looked up hopefully, tail still wagging with excitement.

Rossi was so exhausted all he planned on doing was falling, fully-dressed, into his bed and going to sleep. He was too tired to even bothering eating. But he had something he needed to do first. But even before that, he needed a bit of fortification for the job. He walked to his liquor cabinet and picked up a bottle of his most expensive Scotch. He poured himself a partially-full Tumbler of the amber liquid. Hearing a gentle woof he glanced down and saw his dog now sitting at his feet looking up at him as if waiting for something. Chuckling, Rossi raised his glass in a salute of sorts.

"Sorry, boy," he said, smiling. "But you wouldn't like Scotch."

 _Woof._

Rossi proceeded to drain his glass enjoying the burning as the liquid slid down his throat. After he sat the empty glass on the cabinet, he picked up the receiver of his house phone, and pressed the buttons of the number he had dialed several days ago. He pressed the receiver to his ear and waited as it rang on the other end. He perked up when there was a click on the other end.

"Hello?" a male voice asked tentatively.

"Is this Bobby Hogan?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

"It's Dave. Dave Rossi."

The voice turned warm and friendly. "Dave, when I saw your name on the message my sister gave me, I thought it was you. It's good to hear from you after several years. How are you?"

"I'm good. How are you and the missus?"

"We're good. Just got back from a cruise a few days ago and got your message." Bobby sensed Rossi had a reason for contacting him.

"So I heard." Rossi paused to organize his thoughts before he continued. What he needed could not be discussed on the phone but in person. "Listen, Bobby, we really need to talk as soon as possible. I wouldn't press the issue except to say that it's important. When is a good time?"

Now it was Bobby's turn to pause for a moment concerned for his old friend. "Why don't you stop by tomorrow for dinner? Make it about seven. We can talk after we eat."

Rossi smiled. "I'll be there. See you then. Bye."

Hanging up the telephone, Rossi looked thoughtful. Tomorrow night would certainly be an interesting one for him… _possibly_ for all of them, and especially for Hotch.


	45. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45**

Hotch closed the journal breathing a huge sigh of relief, glad the German officer has been successful in fooling his superior officer. If this Fritz Fuchs is one of the good guys, then Hogan is right to trust him. He hoped in the end that his grandfather might come to trust the German as well. As he looked up, he peered through the open Venetian blinds in the window of his office at the darkened bullpen on the other side. Not one agent, not even from another team, was present. He apparently was alone in the office, and anyone who understood him, also understood he often stayed later than anybody, sometimes overnight. And since Jack planned to be away for the entire summer, staying overnight might be better than being alone in his empty apartment.

As he tried to fight off the exhaustion that began to overtake his body, he figured he might try and work. But first he grabbed his briefcase off the floor, opened it, and tossed the journal inside the case, closing and latching it afterward. He then sat it back on the floor beside his feet. He then proceeded to snatch the file from his in-box, and tossed it onto the desk in front of him. When he opened it, he started to read the contents when his cell phone inside his jacket rang.

With a sigh of what could be best described as annoyance, Hotch reached inside his inner jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone. When he glanced at the Caller ID, he spotted Jessica's name and at once feared something happened. He began to suspect she might even suggest he come out and pick up his son and bring him home with him. Nervously, he pressed the 'talk' button and put the cell to his ear.

"Jess, what's wrong? Did something happen with Roy or to Jack?" He held his breath.

"Relax, Aaron," Jessica said understanding why her brother-in-law might think she'd call her nephew's father. "Dad's fine, but _your_ son is in big trouble with me."

Hotch rolled his eyes. When Haley had been alive she had said the same thing. Whenever their son behaved he was _her_ son. But when Jack misbehaved he was _his_ son. Apparently Jess picked up the same habit.

"What did he do? Nothing wrong I hope?"

"I'll let him tell you himself." Hotch listened as Jess told the boy she'd tell his dad if he didn't, which only increased Hotch's worry. So he waited.

"Daddy?" said a timid voice.

"Buddy, what did you do that made Aunt Jess so upset at you?"

There was a long pause. So long that at first the Unit Chief thought the connection might have been lost.

"Jack, you still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what you did. I promise I won't be angry, still I need to find out what happened to upset Aunt Jess."

"I didn't do anything bad, I swear. I was just trying to help."

Hotch knew getting the facts from his son would be like pulling teeth without Novocain. But he was also well aware his son, at only five-years-of-age, was very much like him with keeping things to himself and trying to handle things on his own. And while Hotch was proud of his son for it, he needed right now to be a kid and not so much with trying to be an adult.

"What did you do that wasn't bad?"

"I found a family of worms while digging in grandma's garden…"

"And…" Hotch thought he had an idea where this story was going, but he had no way of realizing just how wrong he was; but he soon would.

"And I didn't want anybody to step on them, so I put them where they'd be safe."

"And where was that?"

Again there was a long pause.

"I put them in grandma's teeth case."

Hotch nearly dropped his cell phone when his son admitted he put the worms in his grandmother's denture case. But at first he thought maybe he hadn't heard correctly.

"Buddy, did you say you put the worms in grandma's teeth case? Is that what you just told me?" He wondered how his son knew his grandma had a denture case since as far as he knew, the elderly woman never put in or took out her dentures in front of the boy.

"Jack, how do you know grandma has a teeth case?"

"Aunt Jess and I were playing hide 'n seek one day, and I hid in the laundry hamper. Nobody knew I was hiding in there. I watched grandma take something out of her mouth and put it in a case on the sink. I asked her what it was and she told me it was a teeth case. Daddy, what does grandma use a teeth case for?"

The Unit Chief hesitated. As bright as his son was, he wasn't exactly sure how to explain to him that his grandmother wore dentures and used the case to soak them in at night. "Ask your Aunt Jess. She's be better able to answer that than I." He realized he was taking the chicken's way out, but he didn't care.

"Don't you know, daddy?"

Hotch quickly wanted to change the subject. "Jack, why did you put the worms in grandma's teeth case?"

"I wanted to protect the worms, daddy. They would've gotten squished if somebody stepped on them if I hadn't."

"Jack, did grandma, grandpa, or Aunt Jess find the worms?"

"Yeah. Grandma screamed real loud when she opened the teeth case and found them. I think she scared them."

Hotch shook his head trying hard not to laugh at what his son had done. "I think those worms scared grandma more than grandma scared them," he said.

"Huh?" Jack didn't understand.

"Buddy, I want you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

"Are you mad at me, daddy?" His son's sounded scared.

"No, Jack. I'm not angry at you, but I am disappointed. You shouldn't have put the worms in grandma's teeth case. That case belongs to her and her alone. She's the only one who uses it."

"But it was empty. I checked," said the child still trying to defend his actions.

"It doesn't matter, son. Grandma uses that case for personal reasons and it should never be used by you or anybody else. It's only to be used by her. Do you understand?"

"But what does she use it for?"

"It's for personal reasons. Jack, where are the worms now?"

"Grandpa put them in a container. He said that's where they belong. Daddy, did I do something wrong?"

"Yes and no. First, you touched something of grandma's that not only wasn't yours to touch, but you used it without her permission. Second, you scared grandma. Now I realize you didn't mean to scare grandma but you did nonetheless. And didn't I always teach you to ask permission when you want to borrow something, and to respect other people's property?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, daddy. I didn't mean to let you down."

"It's not me you need to apologize to, son. You need to apologize to grandma, grandpa and Aunt Jess. Not only did you do something wrong, but you need to admit to it, and to apologize for it. Understand?"

"Yeah. I will, daddy."

"Good boy. Now, let me speak with Aunt Jess."

"Okay."

As Hotch waited for Jess to get on the phone, he looked up to see the elevator light flash signaling the elevator car was stopping on the sixth floor. When it did, he saw the doors slide open and Rossi step out. Hotch rolled his eyes.

"Aaron?"

"I'm here, Jess. I talked to Jack and I think he understands he did something wrong."

"I could only hear Jack's part of the conversation, and it sounds like you got through to him. I don't believe he will do anything like that again."

"I hope not. I have no idea what possessed him to even do something like that." Hotch waved Rossi toward his office when he saw the older man look up at him from the bottom of the steps leading to the catwalk.

Jess chuckled. "Boys will be boys. Anyway, I thought I'd give you a call and let you know what your son did. I would have talked to him myself, but I thought it would mean more coming from you."

Hotch looked up as Rossi walked into his office and plopped down on the sofa. The man crossed his legs, and stretched out his arms along the back of the sofa. He studied his best friend, waiting until he got off the phone.

"I've got to go, Jess, but let me know if Jack misbehaves again." He saw Rossi arch his eyebrows.

"I will, but I don't think he will. Thanks again, Aaron. Goodbye."

"Bye, Jess."

Hotch disconnected the call and tucked the cell back inside his inner jacket pocket. Then he turned his attention to Rossi.

"What are you doing here, Dave? I sent everybody home with instructions…"

"I got my second wind if you must know," Rossi interrupted his friend. "But I also know you and figured you'd come here and work. Aaron, these files aren't going anywhere. They will still be here in the morning." He smiled warmly at the younger man. "I came here to drag your sorry butt out of this damn office, and see if you wanted to get something to eat. I'm buying."

"Aren't you supposed to be home in bed asleep or at least with Bobby?"

Rossi smirked understanding his friend considered Bobby to be a woman, and he was perfectly fine letting him believe that for now.

"Matter of fact I spoke with Bobby earlier and we're having dinner tomorrow evening."

Hotch smirked. "Unlike you, I don't want or need steamy details. Just promise me you'll show some restraint for once."

"I can definitely promise you that," the older man chuckled. "Now, can we go to dinner?"

"Dave…"

"Don't Dave me. Now put down that pen, get outta that chair and let's go. I know a great little Italian place a few blocks from here that serves the best Linguini with clam sauce and veal you've ever tasted. It'll make your mouth water it's that good." Then he smirked. "Not as good as mine, of course, but excellent nonetheless."

Hotch sighed realizing he wasn't going to win this argument, so he closed the open file and put his pen back in its holder. He subsequently grabbed his briefcase and stood up walking around his desk at the same time Rossi got to his feet. As the two men headed out of the door, Rossi switched off the overhead lights and glanced at his best friend.

"Just out of curiosity, my friend, what was that about Jack misbehaving? I can't believe any son, much less my surrogate grandson, would do something wrong."

Hotch chuckled as he recalled what his son had done. He gave Rossi a capsule summary of the incident, and watched the older man heartily laugh out loud causing tears to form in his eyes. As the older man got control of himself again, he wiped his eyes.

"I hope you weren't too hard on the little guy?" he asked pressing the down button for the elevator.

"I merely explained to him that while I understand his wanting to keep the worms safe, it wasn't right to use something that wasn't his to use and especially without that person's permission. And also scaring his grandmother wasn't a good thing either."

The elevator doors hissed open, and the two men stepped inside and the doors closed behind them.

"Is everything okay now?"

"I think so. Jack's going to apologize to his grandparents and to Jessica, and it shouldn't happen again."

Rossi smiled. "Jack's a good boy, Aaron. He doesn't ever want to disappoint you, and he now knows he did exactly that with these actions. And based on what you've told me, I don't see him making that mistake again."

"I hope you're right." Hotch dropped the subject as the doors hissed open once the elevator reached the ground floor, and the two men exited and walked into the lobby. They were content to forget things and enjoy each other's company and dinner.

* * *

The La Dolce Restaurant was a small family-style restaurant which catered to all people. Rossi smiled as he held open one of the glass doors for Hotch. He followed the young man inside and both men let their eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The older man's smile widened as he spotted a beautiful brunette approach them. She gave Rossi her most brilliant smile.

"Ciao, Signor Rossi," she said. (1)

"Ciao, Bella," Rossi replied with a grin. (2) He noticed the woman smile at Hotch. "Aaron, this is Lucia, my favorite waitress and the most beautiful woman in the restaurant. Lucia, this is my best friend, Aaron Hotchner."

Hotch smiled shyly at Lucia who smiled warmly at the handsome man. "I also speak English," she apprised him.

"Hello, Lucia," Hotch said.

"Ciao, Signor Hotchner," she said.

"We need a table for two, Bella," the older man requested. Lucia grabbed two menus from a counter and led them to a table beside a window showing a great view of the area. She started to hand the men the menus but Rossi waved his hand negatively.

"Two orders of your best Linguini with clam sauce and veal."

"Anything to drink?"

"I'd like a bottle of your best Chianti," Rossi ordered. (3)

"Subito," Lucia replied and walked away with their orders. (4)

Hotch looked around the interior of the eating establishment with interest then turned his attention back to his friend.

"Would you believe I've never been here before," he said.

"I know," the older man replied. "I discovered it completely by accident. I ran into Lucia one day at the jewelry store while getting my watchband fixed. She was buying a bracelet for her sister and we got to talking. She told me where she worked and suggested I stop in and try the food as it was extremely good, so I did. I've been hooked on it ever since."

Just then another waitress approached carrying a tray with two empty wine goblets on it along with an unopened bottle of red Chianti. Rossi proceeded to open the bottle and pour some wine into both goblets. He and Hotch each picked up a goblet and held it up as if saluting each other.

"What are we drinking to?" asked Hotch.

Rossi smirked. "Here's to enjoying a good meal and each other's company."

They clinked glasses before each took a sip of the wine.

* * *

(1) Ciao means hello in Italian.

(2) Ciao, Bella mean hello beautiful in Italian.

(3) Chianti is a wine situated in Tuscany in Central Italy.

(4) Subito mean right away in Italian.


	46. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46**

 _ **(Morning Roll Call – Stalag 13):**_

At the same time Hochstetter was visiting Fuchs in the hospital, Schultz and Klink approached Barracks two for morning roll call. Both men were near exhaustion having been awake from the moment Hochstetter had invaded the camp in the wee hours of the morning looking for his escaped prisoners. And to anyone who saw him, Schultz appeared to be walking in his sleep. Even when he stood at attention, he closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep. Klink meanwhile, wanted to crawl back into his bed and get more sleep, but knew he couldn't. When they reached the barracks, the obese guard looked at his commanding officer nervously.

"What are you waiting for, Schultz?" Klink ordered. "Go count your prisoners. Go. Go. Go."

"Do I have to, Herr Kommandant?"

"Yes, you have to, Dummkopf! Now go!"

Schultz saluted. "Jawohl, Kommandant," he replied and reluctantly opened the door and stepped inside alone, closing the door behind him while Klink waited impatiently in the compound. The guard watched the prisoners getting up and ready for roll call. After five minutes, each prisoner except Kinch were standing in formation. The black man, still weak in the legs, sat up in his bunk.

Hogan emerged from his private quarters zipping up his leather jacket and took his place in line with hands clasped behind his back. He watched the obese guard start his count.

"Eins, Zwei, Drie, Vier, Funf ..." He froze when he got to Hotchner and his eyes widened in shock. He started to say something when Newkirk and LeBeau grinned at the fat guard and waved causing the obese man to turn his eyes on them still in shock.

"Hi'ya, Schultzie," said Newkirk. He and LeBeau, both much better since Wilson had cleared them after his examination, smirked.

"Morning, Schultzie," added LeBeau.

Schultz opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out of his mouth.

Hogan looked along the line of men and arched an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?" he asked innocently.

"Colonel Hogan…wha…what happened to these men? How did they get these bruises?"

Hogan glanced at the three men in question. "What bruises?"

" _These bruises._ Oh, Colonel Hogan, I must report this to the Kommandant at once. Fighting in the barracks is Verboten."(1)

"If you must then you must. But let me warn you that Klink's going to wonder why you didn't tell him before Hochstetter came here."

"I did not see them until now, Colonel Hogan."

Hogan shrugged nonchalantly. "He might accept what you say as true, but I can't be too sure he will. Oh, and before you tell Klink, you might want to pack your snowshoes and heavy winter clothing."

"Why will I want to do that?"

"Well, Klink might accept your word, and I said _might._ But then he'll phone Hochstetter and he'll come out. And I can guarantee you he won't be so easy to convince. And if he doesn't accept your explanation, well then…" Hogan paused for a moment before he continued. "…make sure and write to us from your new address in Stalingrad."

Schultz groaned aloud. "Colonel Hogaaaannnn…"

The American sighed. "Just telling you what to expect Schultz."

"What am I going to tell the Big Shot?"

"Simple. Tell him all prisoners are present."

"But…but…but…"

"Of course it's up to you," continued a smirking Hogan. "But unless you don't mind the cold weather…."

"I see _noth…ing_ … _noth…ing!"_ The guard abruptly turned and stormed out of the barracks, letting the door slam shut behind him. The moment it did, Carter hurried to the door, cracked it open, and kept watch.

"Klink and Schultz are heading back to Klink's office," the younger sergeant said glancing back at the others before turning his attention back to the door.

"I can't believe we pulled it off, Mon Colonel," the Frenchman said as he got out the pans he needed and began preparing breakfast.

"You think Hochstetter will come back here again, sir?" asked Olsen as he sat down at the table.

"Can't really be sure," Hogan said. "As long as he's investing what happened, anything is possible. One never really knows with him. We just have to be ready in case he does. But whether he does or not depends on what happens with Fuchs."

"I wish we knew how ole Bluebird is doing," Newkirk said. "Is there any way to find out, Gov'nor?"

"Maybe we can. Klink did say he was going to have Prust come out and examine him as he was exposed to the flu in our barracks. If we can convince him to let Prust examine the prisoners in the barracks afterward, we should be able to find out."

Kinch glanced up at his commanding officer and saw the amused look on his face.

"Something tells me you have an idea in mind already, sir."

Hogan smirked. "That I do. And Wilson is going to help." He looked around the room until his eyes fell on his Italian sergeant. "Garlotti, go to barracks twelve and tell Wilson I want him to come to barracks two as-soon-as-possible. Tell 'im to use the tunnel. After he examines Hotchner and Kinch, I want him to report to Klink that Prust needs to check us out as well."

* * *

The lower bunk in the corner rattled upward less than thirty minutes later, and Wilson's head appeared from below. He immediately began examining Hotchner and then Kinch. The medic was re-wrapping the radioman's injured shoulder when Carter turned again from his post at the door.

"Colonel, Prust's here. He just pulled up outside Klink's office." Hearing that, Hogan, Newkirk, LeBeau and Olsen gathered at the door so they could observe things with Carter.

"Just in time," said Hogan. He looked back to see Wilson now finished re-wrapping Kinch's shoulder. "Okay, Joe, its show time."

* * *

A nervous Schultz burst into Klink's inner office and hastily saluted.

"Herr Kommandant, Doctor Prust is here. Shall I show him in?"

Klink got up from behind his desk and hastily saluted the obese guard. "Of course you can show him in, Dummkopf. I have been waiting for him."

"Jawohl." Schultz stood aside as much as his large belly allowed, and waved for the doctor to enter. The doctor entered and was met by a smiling Kommandant who held out his hand which the doctor shook.

"Doctor Prust, I'm so glad you were able to come out here on such short notice."

Prust shook Klink's hand and couldn't get over the sappy smile the German officer had on his face. "No problem, Colonel Klink. No problem at all. Now tell me, what can I do for you? You didn't give me much information to go on when you called."

"There was an outbreak of influenza in Barracks two. All the prisoners there have it. I was exposed to it. Now I'm afraid I've caught it from them."

Prust controlled his expression as he already knew there was no flu outbreak in Barracks two. He also knew it to be a ploy by Hogan as part of his rescue plan. He sat his medical bag on the corner of Klink's desk. "I will be happy to check you over, Colonel."

"Danke, Herr Doctor," Klink started to unbutton his uniform jacket when he noticed Schultz was still standing by the open door. He paused and stared at the guard. "Get out, Schultz. Out. Out. Out. Now."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant." Schultz left the office quickly closing the door behind him. Now alone with the doctor, the Kommandant resumed unbuttoning his jacket.

* * *

About thirty minutes later, Prust put his stethoscope inside his bag, and smiled at Klink who was buttoning his dress shirt. "Congratulations. You are in perfect health, Colonel."

"And Danke again, doctor, for taking the time out of your schedule to come here," Klink replied. "I know how busy you doctors are at the hospital."

"That's all right," the doctor replied as he delayed preparing to leave. In reality, he wanted to check on Hotchner and Kinch. But he couldn't come right out and say that. The two men continued chatting when someone knocked on Klink's door.

"Come in!" the Colonel ordered as he looked at the door, waiting. The door opened and Klink's pretty blonde secretary looked in. "Yes, what is it, Fraulein Hilda?"

"I'm sorry, Herr Kommandant, but Sergeant Wilson says he must see you and Doctor Prust right away. He says it's urgent."

"Very well, send him in," Klink said annoyance obvious in his voice.

Hilda stood aside and allowed Joe Wilson to pass her and into the office, then closed the door leaving the three men alone. Wilson's eyes immediately fell on Prust.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Kommandant, but when I saw Doctor Prust arrive, I had to catch him before he left the camp."

The doctor saw the look of disapproval on Klink's face, and spoke to Wilson before Klink opened his mouth.

"How can I help you, young man?"

"Two of the prisoners in Barracks two aren't recovering from the flu like the others are and I'm becoming worried."

"Which prisoners?" asked Klink, who really didn't want to know.

"Sergeants Hotchner and Kinchloe, sir."

"How do you know they have the flu?" asked Prust, kindheartedly.

"Sergeant Wilson is the camp medic," Klink explained. "Sergeant Wilson, Doctor Prust is a very busy man and…."

But the elderly doctor looked at Klink curiously. "From what I have heard about you, Colonel, is that you adhere to the Geneva Convention regarding your prisoners. Surely what I heard was not a lie?"

Klink smiled nervously as he puffed out his chest with pride. "Of course not. In fact, I would be extremely grateful if you would examine the prisoners." He suspected the men of Barracks two were taking advantage so they could avoid coming out for roll call. So maybe it would be a good thing to have the doctor examine the prisoners. But he wouldn't dare tell Prust or anybody what he suspected. So he would keep his suspicions to himself and wait for the doctor's report.

"Well then, it's a good thing I am here. We shall soon put to rest any fears the men are not recovering properly."

"Danke. _Schultz!"_

The door opened and Schultz stepped inside and saluted. "You summoned me, Herr Kommandant?"

"Unfortunately, I did. I want you to escort Doctor Prust to Barracks two so he can examine the prisoners. And I don't want you to leave him alone with them. Verstehen?" (2)

"Verstehen." Schultz saluted, trying not to show his fear that the doctor would discover Hogan and his men had never really been ill as they claimed. He gestured for Prust and Wilson to follow him of the office and in the direction of the barracks.

Carter, still watching from the door, turned. "Schultz, Wilson and Prust heading this way, Colonel." He hurried to the table, snatched a coffee cup, and calmly poured himself a cup of hot coffee. He sat down at the table at the same time the door opened and the obese guard walked inside followed by the others.

"Something we can do for you, Schultz?" Hogan asked looking up from his seat at the table holding a cup of coffee.

"Colonel Hogan, Doctor Prust is here to examine the prisoners," the guard explained. "Kommandant Klink's orders."

Hogan calmly took a drink of coffee, then looked up at Prust. "Welcome to our humble abode, doctor. Did our Fearless leader decide to show his compassionate side? Or is he convinced we've been faking illness to get out of roll call?"

Prust chuckled. "I assure you, Colonel, your Kommandant only has you and your men's best interests at heart."

Hogan glanced around at the men seated at the table with him. "He's convinced we've been faking illness to get out of roll call," he said referring to the German officer.

"Some people are just bloody suspicious if you ask me," added Newkirk.

"Colonel Hogan, it is not nice to be suspicious of the Kommandant."

With a sigh, Hogan got to his feet. "Okay, Schultz, you brought the doctor here so now you can leave while he examines us."

" _No, no, no! My orders are to stay with the doctor until he is finished and I am a soldier who follows orders!"_

"Of course you are, Schultzie," teased LeBeau. "But would you want to be examined by a doctor in front of other people staring at you?"

"Nein," the guard relied knowing how embarrassed he would be at the thought of others watching him especially with his weight being examined. _"But I am not supposed to leave the doctor alone with you dangerous prisoners!"_

"Us? Dangerous?" teased Newkirk. "You've been drinking on duty this morning?"

"You really know how to hurt a person," LeBeau added looking hurt.

"I'm sorry," said the guard. "But I have my orders."

Prust found himself amused as he watched the men tease the overweight guard. It was to him a thing of beauty to watch in action. He subtly glanced at Hogan then turned his attention to the guard with a grandfatherly smile.

"Sergeant, I'm positive these men wouldn't dare try anything with you right outside the door. I will be fine. I promise. I will call for you when I am done."

"But Doctor Prust…"

"You may leave us now, sergeant. I will take responsibility here."

"I'll be waiting outside," Schultz said, defeated, as he turned and quietly left the barracks closing the door behind him.

Alone, Hogan and Prust smiled warmly at each other. "Glad you came out, Michael," the American officer said sticking his hand out.

"I was going to come anyway and update you on Captain Fuchs. I figured you would be worried." Prust gripped the American's hand and shook it.

"Coffee, mate?" asked Newkirk.

"Danke."

The Englander got to his feet and poured a half cup of coffee. He handed it to the German doctor.

"How is Fuchs?" asked Hogan. "I'm afraid I might have hit him kind of hard."

"He will be just fine, Robert. In fact, with luck, he can go home tomorrow." Prust sat down at the table. "The only problem he has is a headache."

"I didn't have much of choice in the matter." Hogan paused momentarily. "I assume Hochstetter's already tried to question him about what happened."

"Ja, he did. But I'm afraid he left the hospital a very unhappy man." Prust took a drink of coffee.

Newkirk arched both eyebrows. "Fuchs couldn't tell him anything, eh?"

"Better than that. The captain has what he calls selective amnesia."

"Blimey, that is bloody marvelous that is," Newkirk laughed out loud. LeBeau, Kinch, Hogan and even Hotchner found themselves laughing. Only Carter didn't laugh as he was totally confused. He studied the others.

"I don't get it," he said. "What's selective amnesia?"

Newkirk rolled his eyes toward the heavens and shook his head. "Blimey, Carter, don't you understand anything? Selective amnesia is when you select what you want to remember or forget."

"And in this case," Hogan added. "Fuchs chose to forget what took place in Gestapo headquarters."

"Oh, now I get it," Carter admitted with a grin which shortly afterward became a frown. "But…but, isn't that like telling a lie?"

"Look at it this way, Carter," Hogan began. "If Fuchs had told Hochstetter the truth, we'd be in front of a firing squad right now."

"Or he can tell a lie and keep us all safe and alive," Prust added before he drained his coffee cup. "Which would you prefer, young man?"

It didn't take Carter long to reach a decision. "In that case, I guess it's okay to tell a lie if it's gonna save lies."

"That's bloody nice of you, Andrew," Newkirk sneered but not in a mean way. After all, he considered Carter his best friend.

"Okay, that's enough, guys," Hogan ordered. "Michael, guess you better check out Kinch and Hotchner before Schultz wonders what's going on, and decides to barge in."

* * *

It was nearly two-and-a-half hours later when Prust had finished examining the prisoners. He was quite pleased with the healing of Kinch's gunshot wound to his shoulder. And as far as Hotchner was concerned, he was extremely pleased with the condition of the man's injured eye. The swelling had gone down considerably and there seemed to be no damage whatsoever. He let Hogan know that Kinch needs to remain in bed for three more days and rest, but Hotchner was able to go outside with the others for evening roll call.

Hogan thanked his friend before he called Schultz's name. The door promptly opened and Schultz walked in looking frantically around afraid something was wrong. A happy smile appeared when he saw Hogan and Prust standing side-by-side staring at him innocently.

"Are you all right, Herr Doctor?"

"I told you there was no need to worry, sergeant. I am perfectly fine. You will be pleased to know all your prisoners except for Sergeant Kinchloe can attend roll call outside again. Sergeant Kinchloe must spend at least three more days in bed. Now, I will accompany you to the Kommandant's office with my report."

"Jawohl, Herr Doctor," replied a happy Schultz. "If you will follow me, bitte," he added and gestured for the doctor to follow him.

* * *

Several hours more passed when Olsen, now standing watch at the door, stiffened and looked around at Hogan.

"Sir, we've got trouble," he said.

"What is it?" the Colonel asked wondering what the hell could be happening now?

"Hochstetter's car just pulled up outside Klink's office."

Hogan jumped up and joined Olsen at the door to take a look. He was concerned that the man might want another roll call, and there was no time to make substitutions.

"Hochstetter's here?" asked LeBeau with narrowed eyes. "What does that filthy Bosche want now?"

"You can bet he ain't here to conduct peace talks," snickered Newkirk.

"What do you think he wants now, Colonel?" asked Carter, concerned.

"I have no idea," Hogan remarked still observing the Gestapo major getting out of his car and stomping up the steps of the Kommandantar. "But I intend to find out." He looked around at his core team. "Gentlemen, it's time for a coffee break."

With that, he strode towards his private quarters with LeBeau, Newkirk, Carter, and Hotchner following him and closing the door.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal. Having returned home a while ago after a pleasant dinner with Rossi, and a chance to relax, he found despite being tired, he still wanted to read a bit more. So he took a quick shower, changed into his pajamas, got under the covers, and made himself comfortable before he resumed reading.

He had continued reading until his eyes couldn't stay open. Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he noticed it was still early. But it had been a long day, and he was exhausted. Plus, he had a lot to think about.

* * *

(1) Verboten mean forbidden in German.

(2) Verstehen means understand in German.


	47. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47**

Hotch woke up for an unexplained reason, and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It read after three in the morning. It occurred to him the unexplained reason he woke up is because he couldn't turn off his mind from what he read so far. Unable to turn his mind off, he decided there was no chance of getting any more sleep tonight, so he slid upward in bed and turned on the lamp. He grabbed the journal, decided to read more of his grandfather's story, and hopefully calm himself.

 _ **(After Leaving Hospital):**_

When he left the hospital, the Gestapo major was not as angry, discouraged, and frustrated as before; but not at Fuchs. Never at Fuchs; but at Hogan, and he intended to prove it this time. But right now he needed to do something much more important and of a personal nature.

So before he left the hospital, he phoned his office and ordered another vehicle to meet him outside the hospital. Hochstetter grumbled as he got behind the wheel of his own car, and waited for the second car to arrive. When it did, he ordered the driver, a Corporal Danzig, to follow him as he drove to the home of Lilly and Fritz Fuchs. The driver of the second vehicle was ordered to drive Lilly directly to the hospital while he returned to the office and checked on the progress of the investigation. Afterward, he'd head back to Stalag 13.

She'd understand being a Gestapo officer's wife. She needed someone to stay with her the entire time while at the hospital. And to protect her from harm if someone tried to use her as a way to get to Fuchs. Hochstetter knew the woman for several years and liked her, and right now needed to keep her safe. He owed that to Fuchs.

Once he arrived at the Fuchs' house and got out of his car, he paused to check his dress uniform and make sure he looked presentable. This distraction gave him time to organize what to say to Lilly. The driver of the second car stayed inside the vehicle waiting being informed of his assignment. Once satisfied, Hochstetter walked up to the door, knocked three times, and waited. A few minutes later the door opened and the major found himself staring at the lovely wife of his best friend.

"Major?"

Hochstetter offered a small smile of his own. "Fritz is alive and is going to be fine."

Hochstetter gently took both of her arms to steady her because of her shaking. "Listen to me, Fritz is going to be fine. The doctor assures me he will be able to come home tomorrow."

"What happened?" she was now having a full-blown panic attack.

"Stay calm, bitte. He has a head injury, but the doctor assures me he is going to fully recover and be fine. The only problem he has is his memory and can't remember what happened."

"How much of a memory loss? Are you trying to tell me he may not remember us?"

"Nein. He only lost a couple of days."

"What happened to him?" Lilly tried to calm her breathing down with little success.

Hochstetter hesitated for a moment. What did he say to calm her and not endanger the investigation? "There was an altercation at the station and Fritz was hit on the back of his head."

Lilly gasped. "I need to see him! Right now! Can you take me?" The tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her brain understood when the major told her that he had the doctor's assurance her husband would be fine. But her heart told her she needed to actually see him for herself before she allowed herself to believe it. To see Fritz breathing and talking to her would be the only assurances she would want or need.

The major found himself worrying about her, and was glad he had somebody with him to take her to the hospital and stay with her.

"Of course I can. Who can watch after the baby?"

"I can leave him with our next-door neighbor, Greta. She always looks after David when Fritz and I aren't home." She pulled away from Hochstetter and raced up the stairs to the baby's room.

In less than five minutes, Lilly walked to the neighbor's house, raced up the steps, and knocked frantically on the front door. She didn't have long to wait before a middle-age blonde woman opened the door. Surprise showed on her face.

"Lilly, what's wrong, my dear?" she asked seeing the tears staining the younger woman's cheeks.

"Fritz is in the hospital, he's been hurt. I need to go. Can you take care of the baby for me?" She nearly shoved the infant into the other woman's arms she was so desperate.

"Of course. You take care of your husband and don't worry about David. He can stay with me as long as you need me to look after him. Give Fritz my best when you see him."

"Danke. I will." Lilly turned and hurried to Hochstetter's vehicle. But before she could get in, the major escorted her to the front passenger door of the car behind his. He held the door open for her as she got in, and looked at the major, puzzled.

"I have to go back to the office and find out who did this to Fritz. Corporal Danzig will escort you to the hospital, help you with anything you need, and then bring you back home. There will be someone from the office to help you until Fritz is back home."

A small smile appeared as she grabbed the major's hand in hers. "Danke, Wolfgang. For everything."

Following that exchange, the corporal drove in the direction of the hospital as Hochstetter stood watching as it drove away. He sighed before he walked back to his own car, and slowly got behind the wheel. He paused as he was about to turn on the engine.

More than anything right now, he wanted so badly to return to the hospital and be with his best friend. But as the head of the Gestapo, he understood there was no room for personal feelings. And he had promised Lilly Fuchs he would find the person responsible for injuring her husband.

Turning on the engine, the major pulled away from the curb and started in the opposite direction toward headquarters. He had to check on the progress of the continuing investigation before he headed back to Stalag 13 and another interrogation of one Colonel Robert Hogan.

* * *

Fuchs sighed as he stared up at the ceiling. He was bored beyond tears and wanted to go home and be with Lilly and David. He figured by now she must be frantic having heard the news about what happened to him. He knew the major would try and calm her, but knowing her as he did, the only thing which would calm her would be seeing him alive for herself. She was a strong woman in her own right which was one of the many things about her which he admired. But being married to him as he was a member of the Gestapo and the underground, he knew caused her to worry at times, sometimes pushing her to her limits.

Another hour had gone by before the door to his room opened. A man he recognized as Corporal Danzig, held the door open and stood aside as he saw Lilly stand in the doorway staring at him. He smiled lovingly at her which caused a smile to appear on her face. She refused to show just how terrified for him she had really been. Then without warning, she sprinted into the room and ran to the bed. She hugged him carefully and kissed him gently on his lips mindful of the gauze wrapped around his head. She then lay her head on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart which she found comforting. It proved he was alive. Fuchs ran one hand up and down her back soothing her as best he could. He glimpsed up and nodded to Danzig who quietly closed the door giving the couple privacy.

After a moment, Lilly lifted her head off his chest and stared into his blue eyes.

"I was so scared when Wolfgang told me," she said. "Are you all right? What did the doctor say?"

Fuchs smiled. "I am fine and am going to be fine. Doctor Prust promised."

"Is he sure? When I heard you had a head injury, I feared the worst."

"Ja, he is positive. And I'm sorry about the confusion. I got hit on the head." He saw Lilly looking at him worriedly and chuckled. "Don't worry. You always said I had a hard head."

She chuckled.

"Therefore no damage was done. I lost a little bit of my memory. The last thing I remember is the sendoff you gave me yesterday morning," he said wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She blushed. "When you're feeling better, we can always work on the sendoff," she replied slyly. Then in a more serious vein added "When will your memory come back?"

Fuchs shrugged. "Could be soon, in part, or not at all. Only time will tell."

Lilly calmed down a little now that she had seen her man alive and talking.

With a tired sigh, she chewed her lower lip and studied his face. "I'm just grateful you are alive, my love."

Fuchs smiled and with a hand tangled in her hair in the back, he moved her head forward and pressed her lips against his in a passionate kiss.

* * *

It was a little over an hour later when Hochstetter drove through the front gates of Stalag 13. He was more determined this time to prove once and for all that Hogan was responsible for what had happened at Gestapo headquarters. In addition, he would also charge him with what he considered to be the attempted murder of Captain Fuchs. And despite not having any evidence to back him, he was still determined to prove he had been right all along about the American officer.

He pulled up outside of the Kommandantur, suspecting Hogan was probably watching as his barracks was directly across from Klink's office. Despite not looking in the direction of barracks two, he could 'feel' the man's eyes on him; watching him. Hochstetter truly believed not much happened in Stalag 13 that escaped Hogan's observant eyes. He often suspected the American knew more about what went on in the camp than Klink.

The major ignored Schultz who hurried forward, came to attention, and saluted him as Hochstetter stormed past the guard and marched up the steps of the Kommandantur. He barged into the office with Schultz following trying to keep pace with the man.

Hochstetter didn't even wait for Schultz or Hilda to announce him and just burst into Klink's inner office, slammed the door shut behind him, startling the Kommandant who sat behind his desk signing reports. The Luftwaffe officer looked up in shock and his entire body tensed. He hoped he had seen the last of the Gestapo major after much earlier this morning.

"Major Hochstetter, what brings you here again so soon?" Klink asked with a terrified look on his face having seen the major's intense stare of rage directed right now at him.

Hochstetter leaned forward placing the palms of both hands flat on the colonel's desk.

" _Klink, this is not a social call. I believe Hogan is responsible for freeing three Gestapo prisoners, the murder of a guard, the kidnapping of two others, and the attempted murder of Captain Fuchs. And I intend to prove it! And if you try and interfere you will be sharing a cell with Hogan!"_

Klink's lower jaw dropped in disbelief. "But…but Major Hochstetter, all the prisoners of barracks two have been confined to the barracks due to an outbreak of the flu," the officer said slowly getting to his feet.

" _BAH! An obvious trick by Hogan to fool you. It proves nothing!"_

Klink walked from around his desk. "But major, even your own man said there were no bruises of any kind on Hogan or any of his men. Surely that should be enough proof for you that Colonel Hogan had nothing to do with this."

Hochstetter snorted and snarled through clenched teeth. "Klink, you are running a country club for prisoners. They come and go as they please when they please!"

Klink swallowed the lump in his throat then forced a shaky smile. "How can that be? There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13."

Hochstetter growled. _"So you have told me. And told me. And told me. But how many times has Hogan gotten out of your prison camp without you knowing? Answer me that, Klink!"_

But before the Kommandant could open his mouth and respond, his office door opened and Hogan sauntered in without waiting for permission. He gave a sloppy salute to the Kommandant then glanced at Hochstetter.

"I'm sorry. Did I interrupt something?" Hogan asked innocently. He noticed the Gestapo officer sneered looking directly at him like a giant snake eyeing its dinner.

Klink saluted. "What do you want, Hogan? Can't you see Major Hochstetter and I are in conference?"

The major glared at the American officer with a twisted smile on his face. "Just the man I wanted to see," he hissed.

Hogan smiled. "Apparently great minds think alike because I wanted to see you too."

"What for?" growled the major.

Hogan wrapped his arms around himself. "Well, after your social visit this morning…oh, by the way, you loused up my date with the redhead. She canceled on me."

" _Hogan!"_ Klink shouted slamming a fist on the edge of his desk.

"Sorry. Anyway, I got to thinking about your problem of the missing prisoners, and I think I figured out what happened. I can tell you about it if you really want to know."

"Tell me," the Gestapo officer growled.

"It's simple really. You have three missing prisoners, one dead guard, one injured officer, and two missing guards, correct?"

"And…?" Hochstetter asked. In reality, he was desperate to solve this mystery in which there were no clues pointing anywhere. Only his suspicion. And Berlin wouldn't accept suspicion and Hochstetter knew it.

"Just wanted to make sure I have my facts straight, major. But before I tell you, I need to know one thing. When all this went down, were you in Hammelburg?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but no. I was on leave. Why do you want to know?"

Hogan smiled. "Because it fits right into my theory. See, I figured these guards captured three prisoners a couple of nights ago. And since you're so upset, I had to assume you didn't know about it. And the only way that could happen was for you not to be in town. Anyway, I figured these guards believed they had this Papa Bear and contacted you despite you being on leave. You got excited naturally, cut your leave short, and came back. But I'm guessing between contacting you and you coming back, they must've found out they made a huge mistake and that they didn't have Papa Bear afterall. So all they could do to save themselves before you got back was release the prisoners and escape with them to England or wherever they went."

"But what about the injured officer and the dead guard?" asked Klink, seeming enthralled by Hogan's story.

"Yes, Hogan, how do you explain that?" hissed Hochstetter. He still had his doubts even though he found the American's story quite plausible.

"Well, when the guards decided to release the prisoners, one of their group probably disagreed and they had an argument about it. Tell me, major, did anyone fire a weapon?"

"Ja. It was Captain Fuchs if you must know. We found he fired his weapon one time, and the dead guard was shot."

"Then there's your answer, major. I bet anything Captain Fuchs discovered their plan and tried to stop them by himself. He probably ended up being forced to shoot one of them before he was overpowered by the other two who afterward took the prisoners with them and left. My guess is you'll probably never find them."

Klink looked nervously at the major. "It makes sense to me," he said nervously.

"Klink, if Hogan said a child committed the crime you'd find it made sense to you."

"It was just a suggestion, Major Hochstetter," Klink said, hoping the man would leave his camp.

Hochstetter stared at Hogan. "Why should I believe you, Hogan? You'd say anything to take attention off yourself."

Hogan shrugged his shoulders. "I could be. But think about it, major. If I was guilty, why would I come back to Stalag 13 which I know would be the first place you'd come? I mean, I'd have to be pretty stupid to come back here and wait for you to arrive and arrest me, wouldn't I? If anything, I would keep going and head to England instead of coming back here. Also, it was pointed out these three men were beaten. Neither I nor any of my men have bruises on them. Your own man verified that earlier and you saw it yourself." He could tell from Hochstetter's face he had been successful in planting a seed, and now waited for it to not only take root, but positive that a flower would grow. He was desperate to put a stop to the man coming out again regarding this same business.

Hochstetter mulled over what Hogan said and had to admit had made perfect sense to him. In fact, he had been thinking along those same lines himself as far as to what happened. But he also knew he would never let the American know he was thinking along the same lines…especially since that American was one Colonel Robert Hogan.

" _BAH!"_ the major snarled, turned, and stormed out of the door, letting the door close behind him with a loud bang. Hogan and Klink looked at each other then back at the closed door.

"Well," Hogan remarked feigning looking offended. "That was rude." He studied Klink's face as the German sat back down behind his desk. "You think he'd at least say thank you."

"Hoooogaaaannnn!" Klink bellowed. Right now all the Kommandant wanted was a rest from all the upheaval and enjoy a little peace of mind. "Out. _Out! Get out!"_

Hogan hooked his thumbs in the slanted pockets of his bomber jacket and stared at the German officer. "Y'know, Kommandant, it wouldn't hurt you to show me a little bit of gratitude for me helping solve your problem."

Klink got to his feet again and marched around his desk until he stood nose-to-nose with his American counterpart.

"What do you mean you helped me solve my problem?" the Kommandant asked. "Hogan, what did you do?"

Hogan shrugged and smirked. "Nothing you need to worry about, sir. But I promise to tell you as soon as I'm up to something. I'll make sure you'll be the first to know."

" _Get out before I have you thrown out! Out! Out!"_ Klink pointed at his door.

Hogan feigned hurt feelings. "Well, that's the last time I give you advance warning of something." He started out the door and paused when he heard Klink call his name. Turning, he noticed Klink approach him.

"Let me give you advance warning, Hogan, I shall be watching you. So if you think you can get the drop on me I will be one step ahead of you. I can read you like an open book, so don't think you can fool me. Keep in mind nobody ever escapes from Stalag 13 and never will."

Hogan smirked. "That may be, sir, but there's always a first time for everything." He winked at Klink then disappeared out the door closing it behind him.

Klink shook his fist at the closed door, and harrumphed.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal and lay it on the nightstand. Glancing at the clock he noticed it was now nearly five in the morning. He didn't realize he had been reading that long. But he soon realized he had learned something important about Hogan that he hadn't before understood. The man was definitely good enough not only to fool even the Gestapo, but could bluff with the best of them. Hotch easily admitted he had been impressed with Hogan, but after this, he felt he understand at last how the man's mind worked, especially in stressful and life-and-death situations.

 _Hell, Hogan would've made a hell of a profiler,_ Hotch thought to himself with an amused grin. Lastly he believed the colonel was definitely before his time.


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N: There are five more chapters left of this story.**

 **Chapter 48**

The following day came too soon as far as Hotch was concerned. He was physically drained despite having gotten a few hours sleep. After he closed his eyes, he massaged his forehead when a knock on his door interrupted him. When he opened them, he turned his tired eyes to find Rossi, dressed in a navy blue suit, white dress shirt, and navy blue pinstripe tie. He was leaning against the door frame with hands stuck in his pants pockets with a smirk on his face.

Hotch's eyes studied the older man's dress. "What's with the suit and tie? You going to a funeral today?"

The older man chuckled. "Good morning to you, too," he replied. When he walked into the office, he collapsed onto one of the chairs in front of Hotch's desk, crossed his legs, and rested his clasped hands in his lap. That's when Hotch spotted the polished black Italian loafers on the man's feet. "I'm having dinner with Bobby today," he said smugly. "You look miserable, my friend."

"If you must know, Dave, I turned in early yesterday but then woke up at three in the morning and never fell back to sleep. I couldn't shut my mind off and so I could go back to sleep," he added.

"Let me guess. You read more of the journal."

"Yeah, I did. Hogan outwitted Hochstetter after the guys were rescued from Gestapo headquarters, and again when he came out to Stalag 13. And one more time when the major came out to Stalag 13 a second time."

"Good for him," said Rossi. "So everything's okay now with him and his men?"

"As far as I can tell. Only thing now is conning the Kommandant who hasn't yet seen the bruises on LeBeau, Newkirk, and my grandfather. But I don't assume that'll be too difficult knowing Klink as we do."

"And Fuchs?"

Hotch chuckled. "Hochstetter tried to question him, but Fuchs claimed what he calls selective amnesia."

Rossi chuckled. "Selective amnesia? That's a new one. I have to remember that."

Hotch smirked. "Don't even try it. You even consider using it and I'll suspend you in an instant. Now get out of here and let me get back to my work else it won't get done."

* * *

The rest of the work day dragged on as far as Rossi was concerned. Finally five o'clock arrived and the senior profiler packed up his briefcase and left his office. He chuckled at the wolf whistle he got from Emily.

"Hey, old man, don't try any moves I won't," teased Morgan.

"Not even considering it," replied Rossi.

"Who's not considering doing what?" asked Reid looking between Prentiss and Morgan. As usual he was oblivious to everything going on around him.

"Forget it, kid," said Morgan. "I'll tell you when you're older."

Reid frowned at his best friend then returned to his files. He hadn't bothered looking at Rossi or his attire.

As the older man pulled open one of the Plexiglas doors of the BAU, he almost ran into JJ and Garcia who were coming in and paused.

"Hubba-hubba-hubba," JJ muttered shaking her hand in appreciation, eyeing Rossi up and down.

"Lookin' good, my Italian Love God," teased Garcia with a smile. "Somebody's gonna get lucky tonight."

"It won't be me, Penelope, trust me," Rossi replied as he passed the two women by and disappeared through the door, leaving them staring after him in confusion.

Garcia looked at JJ. "Nobody dressed like he is thinks he ain't gonna score."

JJ shrugged. "Guess we'll just have to wait until tomorrow to get details."

* * *

The drive to Bobby Hogan's home was nearly two hours from Quantico. Once he arrived at the Hogan residence, Rossi got out of his car, walked around to the trunk, and opened it. He reached inside and retrieved a box gold in color and closed the trunk. He then walked up the driveway and to the steps leading up to the front door.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell and waited. It had been several years since he last saw Robert Edward Hogan III or Bobby as he knew him. In fact, the last time had been when he married the former Connie Baylor. He hadn't even met Bobby's children, James Stephen and daughter Marie Louise. He was brought from his reverie when the door opened and he was greeted by the smiling face of Bobby Hogan.

"Dave, how are you, my friend?" Bobby asked sticking out his hand which Rossi griped firmly and shook as he examined the man. Bobby had aged well despite being in his fifties with greying hair and brown eyes. In fact, except for the grey hair, it was like looking at a much older version of Colonel Hogan himself.

"Bobby, it's been awhile."

"It's good to see you after all this time, you old dog. You haven't changed one bit." He eyed the package in Rossi's arm. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yep. It's one hundred-year-old Scotch from my private stash." Rossi handed the package to the man.

"Thanks. C'mon in. Connie's putting the final touches on dinner." Bobby stood aside and allowed Rossi to enter the living room. He closed the door and studied the package. "We'd best save this for after dinner while we talk. Something tells me we're gonna need it."

"Sounds okay for me."

Bobby draped an arm around the older man's shoulders. "I hope you brought your appetite. Connie's preparing a feast especially for you."

Rossi smiled as he smelled the heavenly aromas emanating from the direction of the kitchen. "Is that Chicken Marsala I smell?"

Bobby laughed. "With pasta. You always did have a good nose for food. And you're right about the Chicken Marsala. But we're also having a House Panzanella salad, and for dessert, Tiramisu Mousse Cheesecake."

"And we'll also have a White Pinot Griggio wine," said a female voice.

Rossi smiled as he stared at Connie Hogan wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Stepping forward, he took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. Releasing it, he stepped back and studied the woman with her silver hair and despite growing older, still had the most alluring blue-green eyes he had ever seen.

"You're just as beautiful as the day I first met you years ago," he commented.

Connie smiled. "And you're still the same old flatterer you were years ago," she teased.

* * *

The food and choice of white wine were not only satisfying and delicious, but even Rossi told himself Connie Hogan was probably just as good a cook as he if not better. And the older man didn't compliment another cook lightly especially when it came to Italian cooking. Afterward, Rossi offered to help with the dishes but his offer was refused by Connie as she sensed their guest had something to discuss with her husband.

As she cleared the table, her husband took the Scotch and two Tumblers and with Rossi following, walked into the study. The profiler looked around the room when his eyes landed on a framed photo on the mantel. It was a wedding photo of Robert Hogan and Tiger. He picked it up and examined it closer. As he did so, Bobby opened the Scotch and filled the Tumblers. He carried the two glasses to where Rossi stood beside the mantle and handed one to him.

"That's my grandfather and grandmother," he said proudly as he himself took a sip of the liquor savoring its smooth burn as it slid down his throat.

"They make a handsome couple," Rossi remarked as he sat the frame back on the mantle. He examined the other photos on the mantel. "Are these your children?" he asked looking at one of a teenage boy with dark eyes and black hair, and a teenage girl with blonde hair and brown eyes. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Bobby's chest expand with pride as the man took another drink.

"That's James Stephen and Marie Louise when they were kids. I really need to get current photos." Then he pointed out separate photos of a much younger Hogan and Tiger, and Hogan was wearing his dress uniform. And one of himself and Connie taken just after their wedding ceremony.

"Beautiful family, Bobby."

"Thank you. But I get the feeling you didn't stop by just to look at my family photos."

Rossi let out a breath. "No I didn't. In fact, I have something important to discuss with you, and it's really important to a good friend of mine."

The two men sat down in two cushioned chairs with a small round table between them on which sat the Scotch bottle. Rossi crossed his legs, sat his glass on the table, and studied his host's face. He proceeded to tell him about the journal, and what had been found out so far, and the research he and his team had done. He held nothing back.

When he was finished, he waited for Bobby's response to this revelation as it was apparent the man had no idea there was a journal.

"Wow," was all the man could utter before he took a drink. "Tell me, what made you come to me with this? I mean, it sounds like you got some answers on your own. Why not be satisfied with what you know?"

"Because Aaron deserves to know the complete truth; not just bits and pieces." Rossi began to feel uncomfortable. "Y'know, Bobby, maybe I should go. I have a feeling I'm bringing up unpleasant memories you'd rather not relieve. I'm sorry." He started to get up from his chair.

"Dave…stop," Bobby pleaded as he put a hand on Rossi's arm stopping him from getting completely up from his chair. "You don't need to leave because talking about my grandfather and the war might be difficult. It's just…I just don't know how much help to your friend I can be. And your friend is obviously counting on you to get answers for him."

"He doesn't know about you. When I told him I was meeting with you, he thought Bobby was a girl, and I'd rather he think that until I can get answers for him." Rossi sat back down in the chair.

Bobby didn't respond and only nodded his head. He took another drink. "You said you suspected my grandfather operated some kind of an underground operation. How did you come up with that assumption if I may ask?"

"From what we were able to find out, your grandfather seemed to come and go from the camp at will. You're saying it's not true?" He took a sip of Scotch.

"He was a prisoner like everybody else confined to a prisoner-of-war camp."

Rossi considered the answer. "Let's go on the basis that this is true, and your grandfather was just an average prisoner. If that's true, then how do you explain why we couldn't find a record of any kind, not even a death certificate, on any of the men during their incarceration at Stalag 13? It was Stalag 13, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure what camp it was. Surely you must be wrong about not finding even a death certificate on any of the men there. I mean, illness and disease ran rampant during that time in all the camps because of the squalid conditions of the camps the men were forced to live in. So I would think there must have been some casualties there."

"Our analyst searched every site she could find, and found nothing on Stalag 13. On other camps she did, but not this camp. So if there were any, we didn't find them. Not a single one. It's like the men there didn't exist. How do you explain this?"

"Dave, I have no explanation why that should be, I really don't," Bobby replied. "About the only thing I can think of that perhaps the records were either lost or misplaced somehow. From what I know of that period, times were chaotic to say the least." He stared at Rossi with a blank expression as if waiting for the next question.

Sensing he wasn't going to get any more information to this question, Rossi decided to change course else the man might shut down, and go back to Hogan.

"Who was Papa Bear?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea. Only Papa Bear I know of is in a child's fairy-tale called Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Used to read it to my kids at bedtime."

Rossi paused as he recalled Garcia had found during her research of Hogan as a Bomber pilot that his plane was called ironically 'Goldilocks.' Coincidence? Unlikely as Rossi didn't believe in coincidences.

"Y'know, it's really kind of weird when you think about it." He took another drink.

"What is?"

"We assumed your grandfather came and went from the camp at will. But when you think about it, there's no way he could do that without the Kommandant catching him. Unless of course Klink was a part of things to start with."

"From what I know of history, I can't see any prison camp Kommandant aiding a POW to leave his prison camp whenever he chooses. That notion is completely ridiculous."

"Are you going to tell me your grandfather didn't make sure Kommandant Klink and Sergeant-of-the-Guard, Hans Schultz, were taken care of? We found no record either of them were charged with war crimes after the war. That was why we assumed Colonel Hogan made sure they were cared for because of their adherence of the Geneva Convention relating to the prisoners. Or was it because they aided indirectly with the overthrow of Hitler by supplying information to Hogan to give to the Allies."

"And because of this you assume my grandfather must have had something to do with things? You have a vivid imagination, Dave. And just out of curiosity, what do you think?"

"I can only go by what Aaron's grandfather wrote in his journal, and our analyst's research. Our assumption is based on that and nothing else." He paused for a few seconds. "We also discovered your grandfather had a close friend in the Gestapo, a Captain Fritz Fuchs."

"You're kidding, right?" Bobby asked wide-eyed. "The Gestapo was nobody's friend. I can't see that. Where did you find that information?"

"Our Tech analyst did during her research, and Aaron read it in his grandfather's journal. His grandfather specifically said a Gestapo Captain named Fuchs helped him and was a member of the underground."

"The Gestapo as you know were the secret police for Hitler. Can you sit there and tell me you believe one of them would turn traitor and help the Allies? If anything, that person would be executed on the spot."

"So you're saying that isn't true?"

"I can't really say it is or it isn't."

"Can you at least tell me if Fuchs and his family perished in the war? We found death certificates for them but nothing else. Not even a marriage license. All we could find out is he and his family perished in a bombing raid."

"I can introduce you and your friend to a Mossad officer named Lilly Goldsmith. Her grandfather's name was David. They might have some answers on this Fuchs."

That tiny piece of non-information told Rossi Fuchs and his family managed to survive the war and escape Germany alive. And as he and Hotch suspected, the death certificates were faked…probably by Hogan since they were friends. But he kept that opinion to himself.

"Will she be able to supply me with some answers?"

"I don't really know," Bobby shrugged.

"Also, we discovered Corporal Newkirk joined MI-6 in 1947. Now I know what MI-6 did, but did he have a hand in helping Fuchs and his family after the war?"

"Can't say what Corporal Newkirk did after the war. Last I understood, he was going to open a pub back in London with his savings from the war. If he did work for MI-6 I know nothing about it. You found death certificates for the Fuchs' family, so you should consider them dead. Old ghosts could endanger the living."

"Is there anything of which you can definitely tell me about that time period?"

"There is one thing. And that is that the only thing I _can_ say is it was in Germany where my grandmother met the love of her life."

"Her name was Marie Louise Monet, and her code name was Tiger wasn't it?"

"It was."

"Why the code name Tiger?"

Bobby laughed. "My father used to tell me she got that name because of her fierceness as leader of the French Resistance."

"Well, since you grandmother married your grandfather, did she meet him while he was a POW in Stalag 13?"

"All I know is that she met him in Germany. She was a leader in the French Resistance. My grandfather was a prisoner in an all-male camp. There's no way she met him there as there were no women allowed in an all-male camp."

Rossi paused with his questions as he thought over Bobby's answers, or rather his non-answers. He figured he'd have to read between the lines if he intended to get any information at all. And that to him meant one thing, everything regarding Bobby's grandfather was still classified.

He sighed. "Bobby, I'm not trying to get you to reveal things that you aren't able to talk about, I swear."

"I understand you're just trying to help a friend. Why don't you ask me about my grandmother?"

A grin took over Dave's handsome face. "Can you tell me a story about your grandmother?"

Bobby picked up his tumbler finishing off his Scotch. Rossi refilled the drink. "My grandmother was a woman you didn't trifle with. She was smart, beautiful, and unstoppable. Not a damsel in distress by any means. However, everyone needs help from time to time especially during wartime while she conducted raids, bombings, and all sorts of activities to interrupt the Germans. On at least two occasions, she was captured by the Gestapo, and I assure you these agents weren't working for the Allies. Once in Paris, a white knight came swooping in and rescued her from the Paris Gestapo Headquarters using a con. Another time, she was on a train that exploded killing everyone on-board near a town named Hammelburg. The Germans declared her dead and issued a death certificate. I believe it was her White Knight who saved her that time also. Dave, I will help you as best I can to steer you in the right direction even though I can't really tell you else about my grandfather."

"I'm afraid I'm somewhat confused. How can you steer me in the right direction if you can't tell me anything?"

Bobby took another drink. "I'm afraid this is how it must be for now."

"Then how can you steer me in the right direction without revealing the truth of what your grandfather did while at Stalag 13 as a prisoner? We suspect he wasn't simply a prisoner sitting out the war. That much we were able to find out to some degree in our research."

"I'm afraid I can't verify or deny that, Dave. Sorry."

"Then why continue this conversation?"

"I can't stop you from researching what you can from your end. Anything considered classified will prohibit you from going but so far with your research at least for the next six months," said Bobby. "And because certain things are classified I cannot help you either with your research."

"Not even to help my friend get the answers he so desperately needs and wants?" Rossi said sharply.

"Not even to ease your friend's mind," Bobby said staring at Rossi with sympathy evident in his eyes.

"Tell me something. If our Technical Analyst had been able to somehow bypass the classified status and gotten the answers we need…"

"She wouldn't have gotten past them," Bobby said with a smirk. "If she had, you wouldn't have sought me out for answers."

Rossi chuckled. "You're right, of course. I mean, Garcia is good. One of the, if not _the_ best there is. But even she couldn't get pass the classification status."

"I didn't think she could."

Rossi drained his glass and refused a refill. "I just have a few more questions for you, my friend."

"Ask."

"We discovered after the war Colonel Hogan was promoted to General and assigned to the Pentagon as a logistics officer. Now, if we go on the assumption of what he accomplished during the war, being a logistics officer makes no sense. Having been in the Marines myself, I know that's a title one is given when the real work you're doing is classified. Is that what happened to your grandfather?"

"My grandfather never talked about his work at the Pentagon. Sorry."

"I'm confused," Rossi said, stroking his goatee. "You were part of a military family, and in fact, was in the military yourself for awhile."

"That's true," Bobby replied warily. "I retired as a Colonel."

"So as a military family, how come you don't know much about what your grandfather did during or after the war?"

"Look, what I told you your technical analyst could have found out with her research. But answering your questions truthfully would be a violation considering everything is still classified."

"So for now it's the same song and dance routine," Rossi said with a huge sigh.

"Unfortunately," Bobby said with a touch of sadness in his voice. "I'm afraid for now your friend will have to be satisfied with what he has been able to find out."

"Talk about a slap in the face," Rossi said with a shake of his head. "To come so far in his search only to be stopped right now. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Afraid not, my friend. I am sorry for you and your friend, Aaron. I can only assume how disappointed your friend will be when you tell him."

"You have no idea. One last thing…if there had been no classification, would you have answered my questions truthfully?"

"We'll never know, Dave, but it would have made things easier. Maybe we can have more Scotch in six months."

Rossi nodded his understanding and checked his watch. He started to get to his feet. "I've taken up enough of your time. I should be leaving. Thank you. And tell Connie good night, and thank you for a delicious dinner." He waited as Bobby got to his feet and the two men shook hands.

"Good luck to you and your friend, Dave. And don't be a stranger."

"I promise. Oh, before I forget, would it be all right if the next time I came by I brought Aaron with me so you two could meet?"

Bobby mulled over the request. "I don't think so," he told Rossi regretfully. "I couldn't tell him anymore than you and it would be a waste of his time. It would be best if you wait a few months before you introduce us."

Rossi laid a hand on Bobby's shoulder. "I'll do that," he said. "Thank you, my friend."

"You're welcome."


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

Rossi let out a deep breath as he tossed his keys onto a small dish on the table next to the front door after closing it. It had been a long day for him, and an even longer evening. There was much to consider before he spoke with Hotch, and he needed to 'interpret' Bobby's answers before they talked.

He walked to his liquor cabinet, picked up a half-filled bottle of brandy, and poured himself a tumbler of the liquor. As he put the glass to his lips, there was the sound of claws on the Parquet floor. He glanced downward to find Mudgie wagging his tail looking up at his master, woofing excitedly.

"Give me a minute, boy."

 _Woof!_

Rossi downed the contents of his glass in one gulp. Afterward, he put the glass on the cabinet, walked to the door, and opened it allowing Mudgie to race outside into the night. Twenty minutes later, there was scratching at the door alerting him his dog finished taking care of 'business,' and was ready to come back inside the house. Rossi let him back inside then locked the door before he turned off the lights. Mudgie sat at his feet watching what he knew was his master's normal nighttime ritual. Once he set the alarm, the older man glanced at the dog.

"Ready to turn in now, boy?" he smiled.

 _Woof!_ The dog danced on his paws, excited.

Mudgie turned and followed the older man across the parquet floor and up the stairs. They entered the master bedroom where the dog jumped up on the bed and curled up on the bottom of the mattress making himself comfortable. After he changed into his pajamas, Rossi again considered today having been a long day, and suspected tomorrow could be an even longer one.

* * *

Rossi hurried through the double Plexiglas door of the BAU in the morning with the intent of being the first to arrive. But the minute he glanced upward he shook his head and smirked. There in his corner office sat Aaron Hotchner, apparently hard at work.

The Unit Chief always beat the others on his team into the office no matter how early they decided or planned to arrive. He strode across the walkway and trotted up the stairs to his friend's office. He knocked on the door, opened it, and without waiting for permission walked into the office. Hotch looked up at him as Rossi walked in and locked the door behind him. He plopped into one of the chairs in front of the younger man's desk. The senior agent crossed his legs, and pyramided his fingertips in front of his face with elbows on the armrests.

"We need to talk…now," Rossi stated with a serious expression on his face.

Hotch had been reviewing the open file in front of him when he noticed his friend's expression and put down his pen. He gave the older man his undivided attention.

"Sounds serious."

Rossi paused for a minute. "It is. I had dinner with Bobby last night."

Hotch rolled his eyes. He really was not in the mood to hear about his friend's love life right now. Also, he wasn't in the mood for his friend to 'rub it in' as it was put even though he already knew Rossi wouldn't do that to him.

"Dave, I really don't want…" he started to say when Rossi interrupted him.

"Bobby's not a woman, Aaron. Not only is he a man, but He's Colonel Hogan's grandson. He is a retired Colonel, and his full name is Robert Edward Hogan III."

Hearing this, Hotch closed the open file and shoved it aside, work now forgotten. He folded his hands on top of his desk and stared at the older man with thick eyebrows knitted together.

"Why didn't you tell us you knew Colonel Hogan's grandson, Dave? It could've saved us time during our research," he said accusingly, dark eyes flashing. But Rossi was not intimidated by Hotch's intense glare which was saved exclusively for when the man was interrogating criminals.

"I told you a few days ago the name Hogan sounded familiar to me but I couldn't remember where I had heard it. Also, I wasn't sure the Hogan I knew was who I hoped he was, and needed to be sure before I said anything. So I rechecked the research information Garcia gave us and noticed the address. Anyhow, it turned out he is the late colonel's grandson."

The expression on Hotch's face softened and was now hopeful. "What did he tell you? Did he answer all our questions?"

"Keep your boxers on for a hot minute. Before I tell you what happened, let me first say this. Everything is still classified and will be for another six months."

The hopeful expression instantly changed to one of disappointment. "In other words he told you nothing."

Rossi held up a hand stopping any further questions for now. "Not in so many words. You sort of have to read between the lines with what he told me. Sort of like the way only one military man can to another with non-information."

"I don't understand."

"It's kind of simple. The only way he told me what he did was in a way that only another military man can understand. By reading between the lines of non-answers when discussing classified information. And you, not being military or even ex-military can't because you're not able to read between the lines so to speak. You would simply think he's lying or refusing to answer for whatever reason."

Hotch nodded his head, believing he understood. "So what did he actually tell you?" The look of hope reappeared on Hotch's face.

"When I told him about the journal and what we had uncovered with our research, he seemed genuinely surprised. He wasn't aware there even was a journal. Then I told him based on our research, we determined his grandfather had the capability to leave the prison camp at will. He told me Hogan was a prisoner unlike everyone else. That sort of told me what we uncovered about him must be true and he must have been able to leave camp whenever he needed to. I can't see any other explanation, can you?"

Hotch let out a deep breath. "I agree one hundred percent. Did he have any explanation as to why we could never find even one death certificate on any of the men there?"

"He told me we must be wrong about that somehow. In fact, he wasn't even sure the camp was named Stalag 13."

"Sounds like what we suspect Hogan was involved in is bigger than we eventually thought if even the name of the Stalag is classified." He leaned back in his chair gripping one armrest with a hand. The other elbow resting on an armrest, put his chin on one thumb with a forefinger against his cheek.

"That's what I told myself when I heard it. Then I asked him who Papa Bear was?"

"Was it Hogan like we thought?"

"I suspect he was. All Bobby said about it was that the only Papa Bear he knew was a child's fairytale of the same name. Then he said something interesting but curious at the same time."

"And that was..?"

"When he told me this, something Garcia found out came to mind. Now even those of us without kids know the story of the three bears, and that the name of the little girl who broke into their house was named Goldilocks. And ironically, if you think back to Garcia's research on Hogan during his pre-Stalag 13 days, Goldilocks was also the name painted on the side of his bomber.''

Hotch arched an eyebrow. "Coincidence?"

"I don't think so, Aaron. Neither of us believe in coincidences. I think it was Bobby's way of telling us Hogan's code name was Papa Bear. Also, Hogan was a commander who looked after those in his unit like a father. Once he was captured, I suspect he took that same outlook on the noncoms under him at Stalag 13…sort of like a Papa Bear looking after his cubs one might say." He paused for a few seconds. "What d'ya think?"

Hotch shrugged. "Beats anything we've come up with so far," he said. "We already knew he looked after his men in the camp."

"I also asked him about Fuchs since we found hardly anything on him."

"What did he have to say about him?"

"Not much really except that if Fuchs was a traitor and helped the Allies he would have been shot as both a traitor and a collaborator. He wouldn't have even admitted that it might be true Fuchs was friends with Hogan or even knew him. And as far as whether the death certificates on the man and his family were faked, he suggested that we just accept them as being dead. But I guess he could see I still had doubts, so he told me he could at a later date, introduce me to a Mossad officer named Lilly Goldsmith whose grandfather is named David. Again that might be another coincidence, but he then said something strange."

"Strange? What do you mean by strange?"

"He said and I quote: 'Old ghosts could endanger the living.'"

"I have an idea what that means, but I'd like to hear what you think first," Hotch asked.

"I suspect this was his way of telling me that there are relatives of Fuchs that are still alive somewhere. And that if we pursue things on him, it might put them in danger or possibly get them killed."

Hotch sadly shook his head. "That's what I was thinking as well, and we certainly don't want that to happen. About this Lilly Goldsmith…what do you think? Can she give us any answers about the man?"

Again the older man shrugged. "Hard to say. We won't know until we speak with her. We'll just have to play it by ear concerning her."

Hotch sighed as he tried digesting what Rossi had told him so far. It was then that he knew his friend was right in that what Bobby told him had to be interpreted. He also knew that as his friend was a former military man, he would have an understanding of what Bobby had said that was a different understanding by a regular man.

"Anything else?" Hotch asked.

"I asked about Newkirk joining MI-6 after the war and did he help in any way with helping the Fuchs family get out of Germany. He only told me since we had death certificates for them, we should consider them dead, and he knows nothing about what Newkirk did after the war."

"Is that all?"

"Not exactly. He admitted that Germany was where his grandmother met the love of her life, and according to him, it wasn't while he wasn't a prisoner which I don't believe no matter what he told me."

"I agree. Based on what we uncovered about Hogan, he probably met Tiger while on an assignment."

"That's what I believe as well. So I pursued the questioning regarding his grandmother."

Hotch arched both eyebrows as Rossi continued to speak. "You mean there's something we didn't know about Tiger? It was quite easy to find things on her seeing as she was a civilian."

"Well, we seemed to have missed one thing entirely and part of another. One of the two facts we found on her was her arrest by the Gestapo and being taken enroute to Berlin by a train which blew up mysteriously. But Bobby claimed it was a so called 'White Knight' who swooped in saving her. The Germans declared her dead. The one we missed entirely was when she was captured by the Gestapo while in Paris. Again her 'White Knight' swooped in and saved her using a con. I'm assuming her White Knight was Hogan." (1)

Hotch leaned back in his chair and clasping his hands lay them in his lap.

"We know Hogan and Tiger had a relationship and often worked together, so you're probably right it was him. I can't see it being anybody else. And if it's true, it also proves something else. It proves not only that Hogan could leave camp whenever he had to, but even Germany as he apparently did if he rescued her in Paris."

"And it proves something else as well," said Rossi with a sigh. "It proves Hogan's operation was more extensive than we originally believed."

"Apparently," Hotch said. "Anything else?"

"I asked if there had been no classification status would he have been more open with his answers. There I got some good news."

"Oh? What was that?"

"He told me we might have a drink in another six months. That's when everything becomes declassified. I plan to visit him at that time and maybe get more information from him."

Hotch sighed. "Dave, don't think I'm not grateful because I am. But let me ask you this…is there anyway I can meet with Bobby myself and talk with him? I still have questions."

Rossi frowned. "I asked him. But he says he won't meet with you until then because it would be a waste of your time to meet sooner. Sorry, Aaron. I tried."

Hotch let out a deep breath of disappointment. "Don't be sorry. And I understand why he said what he did. I waited this long…I can wait another six months if need be." He shifted in his seat. "Did he say anything about what Hogan did after the war?"

"Not much, my friend. We did talk about it, but he said his grandfather never talked about what he did at the Pentagon, but that too is classified. And just so you know, Bobby is a retired Colonel himself with the Pentagon. His entire family is military."

"Talk about a major setback," Hotch muttered sadly partially to himself.

"Unfortunately, but you do have one thing to look forward to in a few months."

Hotch grinned. "You mean once the six months passes you can introduce me to Bobby and we can talk openly?"

"Exactly. So all is not lost, my friend. Just be patient."

"I will. As I said earlier, I've waited this long, I can wait another six months."

* * *

Hotch leaned back in his chair with clasped hands resting on his abdomen, staring out the open Venetian blinds but not really seeing what was happening in the bullpen. After Rossi had left his office, the Unit Chief needed time to process the information he had been given. While it was true that Bobby had given Rossi a couple of answers in a round-about way, but he also left him with questions still to be answered.

In order to try and relax his mind, Hotch opened his middle desk drawer and removed the journal. He opened it and flipped through the pages until he came to where he had left off earlier.

* * *

 _ **(Night Roll Call-Stalag 13):**_

The rest of the day was uneventful for Hogan and his men. Most of them sat on their bunks either reading, laying down and resting, or writing letters home. The Colonel and the members of his team except for Kinch and Hotchner were seated at the table drinking lukewarm coffee. Kinch sat up in bed playing solitaire while Hotchner rested on his bunk with his back facing the wall. He watched the guys through one eye as an ice pack was pressed against the other as instructed by Wilson. The medic had informed Hogan he would check the man's eye again before lights out.

"Colonel…?" Hotchner spoke gently. Hogan and the others looked over at the injured man who everybody agreed looked much better than he had originally.

"You need something, Hotchner?" Hogan asked pausing as he held his coffee cup up to his mouth.

"Sir, what are you gonna do when we go out for roll call? There's no way Klink's not gonna see the bruises and my swollen eye. He's liable to phone Hochstetter."

"I somehow doubt he will," Hogan smirked as he took a drink of his coffee. He stared into space.

"You have a plan don't you, Colonel?" asked a grinning LeBeau.

"Colonel Hogan always has a plan," Carter replied eyeing the Frenchman before he turned his eyes on the officer looking eager. "What's your idea, sir?"

Before Hogan could respond, Newkirk rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head.

"Blimey, Carter, give the Gov'nor a break, will ya? It's been a long coupla days."

"And it ain't over yet unfortunately," LeBeau added with a roll of his own eyes at the young sergeant.

"Cheer up, LeBeau," Hogan said. "Things are about to get interesting."

* * *

It was a few minutes before six in the evening when Schultz opened the door and slowly walked inside barracks two.

"Raus! Raus! All prisoners outside for evening roll call! Mach schnell!" But instead of his usual bluster, Schultz looked like a man having thoughts of being transferred to the Russian Front once Klink saw the three injured prisoners.

Once his eyes landed on LeBeau, Newkirk, and Hotchner, he got an up-close look at the extent of the bruising. His eyes widened in horror especially seeing Hotchner's slightly swollen eye. He hadn't realized the full extent of the bruising early this morning at roll call due to the dim lighting inside the barracks. His own eyes shifted to Hogan who had emerged from his private quarters zipping up his leather jacket.

"Colonel Hogan, tell me the truth, bitte. How did the men get these bruises? You will tell me the truth, won't you?" asked Schultz trying to sound like he was in charge and failing miserably.

"Schultz, you worry too much," said Hogan casually. "You really need to learn how to relax."

"How can I relax when the Big Shot will demand to know how these men were injured? What am I supposed to tell him?"

"I already told you. Now stop worrying before you make me worry."

"I demand you tell me how these men were injured and that you tell me right now!" Schultz tried again to look fierce but knew he wasn't fooling anybody, especially the colonel.

The American officer grinned devilishly and leaned closer. "You really want to know, Schultz?"

"Nein," Schultz said lightly having mulled things over as a smirk suddenly appeared on his face, and a twinkle was seen in his blue eyes. "I do not want to know so do not tell me. This way when they ask me, I can say with complete honesty, I know nothing! Noth…ing!" He turned and walked out of the barracks closing the door behind him leaving the men to get ready for roll call.

Hogan and Newkirk glanced at each other with Hogan arching both eyebrows.

"I do believe the ole barrage balloon has finally sprung a leak, Gov'nor," the Englander said.

Hogan chuckled. "I do believe you're right, Newkirk."

* * *

The men from barracks two stood in two rows waiting as the Kommandant having left his office, marched toward them while Schultz nervously counted each man including Kinch and Hotchner who, though shaky, were able to join the others in formation.

"Schuuuuuulllltzzzzz!" Klink hollered as he got closer.

Schultz turned sharply around saluting. Inside, he was a nervous wreck expecting the explosion that would come once the Kommandant spotted the injured men. He noticed Klink looking at the front row of the prisoners with mouth agape.

"Herr, Kommandant…all prisoners are present and…."

" _What is this?!"_ The German officer stormed toward Hogan until he stood face-to-face with the American. "What is the meaning of this, Hogan? What happened to these men?!"

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

* * *

Hotch closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in order to give his eyes a momentary break from reading. After a few minutes, he resumed reading.

* * *

(1) The rescue of Tiger from the Gestapo while in Paris with Hogan using a con, was A Tiger Hunt in Paris Pt. 1 & 2, Season 2.


	50. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50**

 _ **(Continuation):**_

Hogan, thumbs hooked in the slanted side pockets of his jacket, glanced at the three men in question and again at Klink. "They're bruises, sir."

"I can tell they're bruises. What I want to find out is where did they come from?! I didn't see any bruises on these men when Major Hochstetter was here."

Hogan's face remained neutral. "I don't doubt it, sir. You never did replace the three burnt out light bulbs we've been asking you to for weeks. With only one bulb it's too dark to spot bruises. And Hotchner, Newkirk and LeBeau had been extremely sick and delirious because of the fever at the time."

"Harrumph!" Klink muttered shaking his fist directly in Hogan's face. "You're aware Major Hochstetter was here looking for bruises on three men who escaped from Gestapo headquarters. Now I need to telephone him three of the prisoners have bruises."

"I don't think you want to do that, Kommandant."

Klink now looked defeated. "I don't? So what do I want to do?"

"The way I figure it, you have two choices. One, you can call the major and arrange for him to come out again. Of course you'll need to explain how come three prisoners have bruises and you didn't tell him. He might believe you or he might not. And if he doesn't, well, I hope you enjoy snow. On the other hand, Hochstetter could accuse you of hiding these three injured men while he was out here last time. If that happens, your career will be shot to hell, and you'll end up being called a traitor. If that happens he'll either shoot you himself, or sanitize the entire camp. Again, it's your choice, sir."

The German officer studied Hogan's face with an expression on his face which told Hogan he had Klink right where he wanted him.

"Hogan, what do I do?" he asked.

Hogan sighed. "Well, if it were up to me, I'd forget I spotted any bruises on LeBeau, Newkirk, and Hotchner. Because of the delirium from the fever, they got into fights with each other. That's how they got the bruises, sir."

"That's certainly possible. And I certainly don't want the Gestapo coming back out here again."

"Neither do I, sir." Hogan looked sternly at his German counterpart. "Besides, it's time we got things back to normal around here."

Klink grinned. "You're absolutely right. There are no bruises. Schultz, you will disregard bruises on any of the men."

"But I…" Schultz stammered staring at Klink.

Klink stomped his foot. "Dummkopf! For once you know nothing! You should be used to that! Do you want the Gestapo back out here?"

"No, sir," Schultz replied meekly.

"So do what I tell you!"

The obese guard smiled and saluted. "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant. Shall I dismiss the prisoners?"

"Of course, Dummkopf. What are you waiting for? And engraved invitation?"

"Jawohl…I mean Nein, Herr Kommandant." Schultz exchanged salutes with Klink and turned toward the prisoners. He sided up to Hogan and leaned towards him. "Colonel Hogan, did the men really get those bruises in a fight?"

Hogan smirked and there was a twinkle in his eyes. "Do you really want me to tell you, Schultz?"

"I would rather you didn't," the guard replied. He let out a weary breath. "Prisoners, dissed…missed."

Hearing those words, Hogan and his men dispersed as Klink and Schultz walked in the direction of the Kommandantur.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal again noticing he only had a few pages left to read before reaching the end of his grandfather's journey. He'd made up his mind that this is definitely something his son can read when he is old enough to understand. He also hoped when he did, Jack would be as proud of his late grandfather as he himself was. With a small smile, Hotch put the journal back inside his middle desk drawer and got to his feet. The Unit Chief knew what he had to do.

* * *

Once he left his office, Hotch walked along the catwalk until he came to Rossi's office which was next door to his own. Seeing the door open, the Unit Chief stood in the doorway and knocked on the door-frame causing the senior agent to stop what he was doing and look up at his visitor. A smile appeared when their eyes met.

"Hey," Rossi said.

"Hey, yourself," Hotch answered.

"You need something?"

"Yes. It's time we brought the others up to date on things."

"About time," was Rossi's response as he got to his feet.

Hotch looked around and scanned the bullpen noticing Reid, Prentiss and Morgan looking up at him from their desks. To him it was obvious they suspected something had happened, and waiting to be told what it was. He glanced at Prentiss.

"Emily, call Garcia and tell her we're meeting in the conference room in fifteen minutes, and her presence is required. Then contact JJ and have her join us as well. We need to have a team meeting." Moments later he headed in the direction of the conference room.

* * *

It took exactly fifteen minutes for the entire team to gather around the conference table. Hotch was already waiting for the others to join him. He eyed each person as they entered the room, hands clasped in front of him on the table; his face impassive. Rossi leaned back in his chair with elbows on the armrests with his fingertips pyramided in front of him. Like Hotch, he also watched each person walking into the room.

Garcia was next to the last one to hurry into the room only a few minutes after JJ.

"Sorry, sir," Penelope apologized a bit out of breath as she took a seat beside Morgan as she had come from a different floor.

"It's okay, Penelope," Rossi reassured her.

Once seated, everybody looked at the Unit Chief patiently waiting. Hotch let out a deep breath before he spoke.

"I called you all here because thanks to Rossi we got some additional information." He paused for a moment as the others waited for him to continue. "When we were on the way back from Macon, Georgia after our last case, he informed me he had plans to meet someone named Bobby at their home…" But before he could continue, Morgan interrupted as usual.

"Hotch, excuse me for interrupting, but why should we care about Rossi havin' dinner with some woman? And why call a team meeting for it?"

"Because it wasn't with a woman," Hotch continued as if he hadn't even heard Morgan's question. "The dinner was with Bobby Hogan, the grandson of Colonel Robert Hogan."

Garcia, JJ, Prentiss, and Reid were too stunned to even speak. All they could do is look at each other. But Morgan jumped up from his seat so quickly that his chair fell over backwards. There was anger on his face and it was directed solely at Rossi.

"You _knew_ this guy and you didn't say _anything?!"_ he hissed. "We wouldn't have wasted a lot of time researching this stuff if you had spoken up sooner. How could you do this to us, man? How could you do this to Hotch who you _claim_ is your best friend?! You…" It was then his eyes made contact with Hotch's face and saw the harsh glare directed at him.

" _Sit down, Morgan!"_ the Unit Chief hissed. He suspected his people might be upset, but even he hadn't expected this level of anger from Morgan directed at Rossi. And as Unit Chief he had to stop it before things got out-of-hand. _"Now!"_

"C'mon, Hotch," Morgan continued, his anger getting the better of him right now. "You just gonna sit there and tell us you're okay with him keeping this to himself? How can you…."

"I _said_ sit down!"Hotch repeated, his 'Hotchner glare' in full bloom. He never liked turning his anger onto his subordinates. But he refused to hesitate if it was called for. And he felt this was such a time. "Dave is not to blame for why it took him this long. And if I can accept his reasons for it than why can't you?"

Morgan smirked. "What reason could he have other than being selfish, man? You deserved better than that, Hotch." The minute the words left his mouth, the black agent knew he had gone too far.

JJ, Reid and Prentiss keeping their opinions to themselves, could only stare at their teammate whom even they realized may have crossed the line. But Garcia, looking up worriedly at Derek, touched his arm hoping to calm him down before he either said something he couldn't take back, or got himself fired. Morgan paused and looked down at the tech analyst, felt most of his anger subside and nodded. He looked at the older man sheepishly.

"Sorry, man," he apologized to the senior agent before he bent down, picked up the chair, stood it upright, and sat down again.

Rossi grinned his understanding. "No need to apologize, Derek. I can understand why you feel this way. But I hope when you and the others hear my reason you'll all understand and come to the same conclusions as Aaron." He looked back at Hotch.

The Unit Chief's face softened and his eyes again scanned the room falling at the end again on Morgan. "I suggest each of you refrain from any further criticism, making rash comments, and hold any questions until Dave is finished."

The black agent understood the need for self-control, and bit his lower lip to keep from saying something else he might regret.

Seeing his subordinate now controlling himself, Hotch looked sideways at his best friend. "Dave, the floor is yours."

Rossi kept his face neutral as he stole another look at the Unit Chief before glancing at the others who were staring at him. As they all listened, only Morgan's eyes continued to bore into the older man who ignored rather than respond to it. The older man repeated the entire conversation he had with Bobby Hogan, then waited for them to digest the information.

"How the hell can you tell us this Bobby gave you a few answers?" asked Morgan warily. "Sounds like he gave you a lot of nothin' if you ask me, man."

"I was about to say the same thing," Prentiss said.

"That depends how you interpret what Rossi was told by Bobby," Reid explained.

"How can you interpret a lot of nothing?" asked Morgan staring at the genius.

"It's not nothing if you know how to read behind Bobby's answers and interpret what he actually said," Reid added. He saw Morgan's and Prentiss' confused looks, and continued talking. "What I mean by this is someone with a military background is able to read behind those non-answers, and understand what is actually being said. And someone without a military background will only see non-answers to their questions."

Morgan smirked at the youngest agent. "And you understand this how?" he asked.

The genius stared at Morgan as if he had three heads. "It's common sense," he explained.

Rossi smiled as he looked at their youngest. "That's pretty good, kid. You sure you don't have any military experience yourself?"

The genius returned the smile despite not knowing he'd just been complimented. "No, but I understand non-answers to questions. And from what you told us, Rossi, I have to assume I'm right since things are still classified."

"So what exactly did Bobby Hogan tell you when you met with him?" asked JJ. "Was he able to clarify anything for you?"

Rossi glanced first at the Unit Chief, then at the media liaison with a small smile. He carefully explained his own interpretation of what Bobby had said to her and the others, then looked at Garcia. "He confirmed several things that you had already found, Penelope," he explained. "But one thing he said had to do with Captain Fuchs."

Garcia's eyes widened as her lower jaw dropped.

"He gave me the impression those death certificates you found for Fuchs and his family might not have been legitimate. I won't know for several months when he promised to introduce me to a Mossad officer named Lilly Goldsmith whose grandfather just happened to be named David."

"You think she might be the granddaughter of Fuchs' son?" she asked.

"I'm not sure."

"I could look her up, sir, and see what I can find," Garcia said eagerly.

"No you won't, Garcia," interrupted Hotch. "Bobby told Rossi he will introduce this woman to him at the proper time. And you will not violate her privacy right now. Besides, I've waited this long I can wait an extra six months."

Garcia frowned. "But, sir…"

"I said no, and I meant no," the Unit Chief emphasized. "And I better not catch or find out you disobeyed my order. Because if I do there will be hell to pay. Understood?"

Garcia averted her eyes and didn't answer her boss.

Prentiss eyed Garcia first and then Rossi. "Did he say anything else?" she asked the older man.

"Yeah." Rossi continued studying the tech analyst. "He said…and I quote…'old ghosts could endanger the living'."

"What does that mean?" asked Garcia.

"Sounds like some kind of threat to me," added Prentiss.

"He means that if there are any surviving members of the Fuchs' family, and we continue researching them, we could end up either putting them in danger, or perhaps getting them killed," explained Reid. He stared at the older man and saw him grin.

"The kid's hit it right on the nose," Rossi stated. "I believe Bobby was hinting in a roundabout was that Fuchs might have had family members who survived the war. And considering what the kid just said, can you understand now, kitten, why Hotch indicated that it's important you not conduct any additional searches on Captain Fuchs?"

Garcia lifted her head and looked at the senior agent. "Yes, sir," she replied. She turned her head and looked at her Unit Chief. She crossed her heart with her fingers. "You have my word, sir. I will conduct no further searches on our Gestapo captain unless ordered to do so by you or Agent Rossi."

"That's good enough for us," Hotch said.

"So where does all of this leave us?" asked Morgan crossing his muscular arms across his broad chest.

The senior agent let out a deep breath and crossed his arms. "Well, I'd say we've gotten all we're gonna get for now. And before we can get anything more, we need to wait the six months out."

Reid, Prentiss, JJ, Morgan, and Garcia all exchanged glances with each other. After a few seconds, Morgan stared at the Unit Chief with sympathy.

"What about you, Hotch?" he asked gently. "Can you wait that long to possibly get the answers you still need?"

Hotch leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He crossed his arms. "I don't really have much of a choice, Morgan," he replied. "But as I told Dave, I can wait a few more months."

Garcia's heart broke as she studied her Unit Chief. He'd been through so much the last few years that having to wait several more months didn't seem fair to her.

"Oh, sir, you shouldn't have to wait. After everything you've suffered over the years, waiting just isn't fair to you."

Hotch smiled. "That's when everything becomes declassified. In other words, Garcia, I'll be able to get all the answers I need when that happens."

"I still say it's not fair, sir."

"I agree, but it's not indefinite. So that is a bright spot to look forward to with this. Besides the amount of time set for declassifying information is made to protect the lives of people involved and their families. My being inconvenienced for a short time doesn't hold a candle to putting someone's life in danger."

Garcia wiped her fingers across her cheeks as she felt wetness on them. "I understand, sir. And I promise not to do anything without permission. I don't want to be responsible for jeopardizing the life of anybody…especially by accident."

"I appreciate your concern, Garcia, I really do. But trust me when I say it's okay."

Garcia offered Hotch a faint smile. "If it's okay with you, my Liege, than it's okay with me. But at that time if you still need me to do any research for you, all you need do is ask."

"I wouldn't ask or trust anybody else but you to do the search for me." Hotch's smile widened to the point his dimples, which Garcia loved, were showing. In response, her own smile widened as well.

"Thank you, sir. I aim to please."

Now that the team had been updated, Hotch looked around the room. "Okay, I suggest all of you return to your desks and get back to work.

* * *

After the meeting had broken up, and everybody had left the conference room, Hotch and Rossi walked side-by-side along the catwalk in the direction of Rossi's office. The older man leaned close to Hotch and kept his voice low with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

"So what now?" he asked Hotch.

Hotch sighed. "Finish the journal, I guess. There aren't many pages left to read, and I don't think there's much left to uncover."

"I can think of at least one thing, my friend," Rossi said. "We never got an explanation as to what Andrew Carter's true rank is."

Hotch chewed his lower lip. "True. We also need to find out if my grandfather makes peace with Captain Fuchs. Don't forget, he blames him for himself, Newkirk, and LeBeau being arrested by the Gestapo."

"True. When you find out, please let me know the answers to those issues." They paused when reaching Rossi's office. The senior agent gripped the door handle of his closed door, turned it, and opened the door." You will tell me how what happens, won't you?"

Hotch smirked. "You have my word," he said before he walked away in the direction of his own office.

* * *

Once the day came to an end, the team had left for the day. Only Hotch and Rossi found themselves alone in their offices: Rossi at work in his, and Hotch reading his journal.

 _ **(Stalag 13 - After Roll Call):**_

Hogan, LeBeau, Newkirk, Carter, Kinch, and Hotchner sat around the table with the lights on in the barracks. And with the lights being on, the shutters were closed over the frosted windows to shield curious eyes from spotting the lights were on inside the barracks.

Hotchner averted looking at his commanding officer's eyes as he took a drink of coffee.

"Something wrong, sergeant?" asked Hogan.

Hotchner raised his head and stared at Hogan, having not heard him. "Sir?"

"I sense you want to say something to me. What is it?"

"Sir, I just wanted to…that is, I want to say thank you for saving me…us, from the Gestapo and that Captain Fuchs."

Hogan's face stayed blank. "No need to thank me, sergeant. We always have each other's backs. But you should really thank Captain Fuchs when you see him." He saw Hotchner look at him with an odd expression.

"If it hadn't been for him, this mission would have failed miserably," Hogan said.

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch looked up from his reading to rest his eyes. After a few minutes, the Unit Chief resumed to his reading.


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

 _ **(Continuation):**_

"You're kidding me aren't you, Colonel?" asked a confused Hotchner.

"I don't kid when it comes to things such as this, sergeant. Bluebird put his life on the line with Hochstetter to give us a chance to get you guys out of Gestapo headquarters. In fact, if it hadn't been for him, we'd be facing a firing squad right now."

Hotchner stared at the American officer then at LeBeau and Newkirk.

"Mon Colonel is correct, mon ami," LeBeau added, staring at Hotchner. "The captain even checked on us several times during our captivity to make sure we were okay."

"And he had Doctor Prust come out and take care of us, mate," added Newkirk. "And he kept that bloody Sergeant von Eisenburg away from us."

"And at great personal risk to himself," LeBeau added in the end.

"In addition, he's the reason Hochstetter didn't arrest us when he came out here," added Hogan.

"He's a swell guy once you get to know 'im," Carter added with a faint grin.

"In other words," Kinch added. "If you give him a chance, you'll find him a good, loyal friend you can count to help if need be."

"Of course you'd have no bloody way of knowing this 'cause you were unconscious, mate," explained the Englander. "But he did everything possible to help the Colonel rescue you, Louie, and me. Without his help, we might not have gotten out alive."

Hotchner was starting to wonder if he might have been mistaken when it came to the German. Yet something still nagged at him when it came to the Gestapo officer.

"Colonel, I realize you trust this man, but I still find myself hesitant to do so."

Hogan took a drink of coffee. "I can't tell you how you should react to him. But in this case, Captain Fuchs has come through for us too many times to count, and at great personal risk to himself. In addition, fooling Major Hochstetter is ten times harder than trying to fool Klink. I don't think in complete honesty, that I can succeed at fooling Hochstetter on a daily basis as I do the Kommandant."

"And the Gov'nor don't admit to not bein' able to con someone on a regular basis unless it's true," said Newkirk.

LeBeau finished his coffee. "Nothing against Mon Colonel, and we are positive he can do it if absolutely he had to do it. But even he will admit it takes a special man to fool Major Hochstetter on a daily basis." He eyed Hogan. "Sorry, Colonel," he said apologetically averting his eyes.

Hogan smiled. "No need to apologize, LeBeau, because what you said is true. It does take a special man who understands how Hochstetter's mind works. It doesn't work the same way Klink's does if it works period. And Fuchs is that man. He understands the major's mind better than I understand Klink's." He looked at Hotchner. "And trust me when I say understanding Hochstetter and how his mind works is no small feat. Understanding Klink is child's play, but not the major."

Hotchner nodded. He needed to give serious thought to what he had been told, and to his feelings about the German officer.

* * *

 _ **(Three Days Later – Barracks Two):**_

Feeling somewhat stronger now, Kinch joined Carter, Newkirk, LeBeau, and Hotchner around the table playing gin rummy. Hogan was outside taking a stroll around the compound, so the men were left to their own devices.

Newkirk held a lit cigarette between two fingers of one hand as he studied the cards in his other. Since he was playing with his 'special' deck, he was positive he would win this hand just as he had the last two. He glanced up to see Carter still studying his own cards and rolled his eyes with exasperation.

"C'mon, Carter, what are you waitin' for? The ruddy war's gonna be over before you toss out a bleedin' card."

Carter glared at the British corporal. "Hold your horses, will ya? I'm thinkin'."

LeBeau shook his head. "Then you better hurry up, Andre. I am not a young man anymore. I'd like to be young enough to have children after the war."

Carter looked at the Frenchman with defiance. "Yeah, but some things can't be rushed, y'know." He started to pull out one card, stopped, and reached instead for another. This caused the others to groan aloud.

"C'mon, Carter!" Kinch moaned.

"Bleedin' officers!" Newkirk groaned before he realized he had spoken aloud causing only Hotchner to stare at the Englander. The others acted as if they hadn't heard.

"Oops," Kinch muttered under his breath keeping his attention on his cards.

"Pierre," LeBeau whispered staring at the Englander.

Only Carter kept silent and stole a glimpse at the British corporal before he threw down a card. Then he, LeBeau, Hotchner, and Kinch watched Newkirk smirk, pick up the tossed card, and placed all the cards in his hand on the table.

"Gin."

The others groaned loudly as they all threw down their cards in disgust. Newkirk gathered them up and began to shuffle them. He looked around at the others.

"Okay, who's up for another hand then?" Newkirk asked with grin.

Hotchner studied the Englander. "What I'm up to is why you said officer during the last hand? I suspect it was directed towards Carter, and I'm curious as to why? He's only a sergeant like me and Kinch."

Realizing what he had let slip, Newkirk grinned a twisted grin while looking at the man. "Sorry, mate. I had something else on me mind when I spoke. Didn't mean nothin' by it."

But Hotchner intensified his stare. "Didn't sound like nothing to me. Sounded more like something I wasn't supposed to overhear. Now what was that about?"

Newkirk, now looking uncomfortable, threw down the cards he had been shuffling, and got to his feet.

"Sorry, mate, but I just remembered the Gov'nor asked me to take care of somethin' for 'im." He hurried away leaving the others seated at the table.

Hotchner faced LeBeau, Carter and Kinch. "Why is the answer to my question such a big secret?"

LeBeau and Kinch exchanged looks and understood. They both got to their feet surprising Hotchner. "It's not for us to say," Kinch said before the duo left the two men alone at the table. He glanced at Carter before they left.

Carter looked at Hotchner with a blank expression. "Well…I guess it's just the two of us," he said chuckling nervously.

"Guess so," Hotchner replied. "So what exactly is the big secret? I suspect it has something to do with you, am I right?"

Carter let out a deep breath as he mulled something over in his mind. In the end, he figured it wasn't exactly a huge secret. But if the truth got back to the Germans, he'd find himself leaving Stalag 13, whether forced to or not, and sent to another camp. And either way, the team would lose their demolitions expert permanently. But he also knew that if Hotchner were to find out, it best come from him or the Colonel. And since Hogan wasn't available at this exact moment, the question fell on him. He faced Hotchner.

"I'll tell you, but first you need to promise me that it goes no further than this barracks. And I mean _no further_. Everybody in the barracks two knows, but that's about it. We can't have everybody, especially the Krauts finding out, or there'd be big trouble."

Hotchner's eyes widened. "What can be so…"

" _Promise me,"_ Carter repeated in earnest.

"Okay, okay. I promise. It stays between these walls. You have my word."

Carter relaxed and licked his lips before he started. "I came to Stalag 13 as an escapee from a Stalag for officers, and was to be returned to England. I came in as a replacement for Olsen who had left camp to carry out an assignment in town. That way there would not be a prisoner missing. Only Schultz knew I wasn't Olsen, and we knew he wouldn't say anything else he'd be in big trouble. Transferred to the Russian Front kind of trouble even." (1) He chuckled at the memory.

"So you're really an officer, sergeant…I mean, sir?"

"I'm really Lieutenant Andrew Carter not Sergeant Andrew Carter as most people in camp and all the Germans believe."

Hotchner stared at the younger man. "I'm confused. I know how Colonel Hogan ended up here, but I was under the impression he was the only officer here other than Klink. How'd you…" This latest revelation had him speechless.

"How'd I end up here?" Carter asked wearing a goofy grin. "That's simple. The colonel already had what he likes to call our Traveler's Aid Society. But when I came here, it was to be sent back to England. But while I had to wait to leave, I was shown some of the operation below, and was told by the colonel that London wanted them to branch out into sabotage. But since they didn't have a demolitions expert, they had to assign any sabotage work to the underground."

"So what happened?"

"As I had to wait a couple of days for the sub taking me to England to arrive, I let it be known to the colonel I had studied chemistry in school, and had a little knowledge of making explosives. But since I was an officer I couldn't stay here. The Krauts couldn't have two officers in camp. So, the colonel sent me along the escape route back to England."

"So what happened? How'd you end up back here?"

"That's a real funny story, sergeant. Seems while along the escape route, I decided on my own that I wanted to stay here and help the guys fight against the Nazis. So instead of escaping, I returned to Stalag 13 via the tunnels. The colonel was annoyed at first, but in the end made all the arrangements with London, and came up with a backstory for me. He even arranged for me to be captured legally by the guards at Stalag 13 as Sergeant Andrew Carter. The rest, as the colonel says, is history."

Hotchner chuckled as he shook his head in amazement. "Unbelievable."

"Kinda," Carter concurred. Then he became serious. "Remember, you promised to keep this between us and nobody else."

"You have my word. Tell me, isn't it tough for the colonel to keep your true rank a secret from the Krauts?"

"Isn't what tough, sergeant?" Hogan asked, having walked into the barracks in time to hear the tail end of the conversation.

Carter glanced around the room before gazing up at Hogan. "I was telling Hotchner how I came to be here, sir. I hope that's okay because Newkirk accidentally let it slip while we were playing gin."

Hogan sighed wearily. In a way he was glad Carter had explained things to the sergeant as he hadn't felt right about possibly having to do it himself. He looked at his youngest.

"I'm surprised it took this long, Carter, for you to explain things to Sergeant Hotchner. But it's your story to tell and it should come from you when you figured the time was right. But to answer your question, yes, everybody in barracks two knew about Carter when he came here. And in the beginning it was a struggle to keep in mind that Carter's true rank had to be kept secret. But after awhile it became easy to accept him as Sergeant Carter."

 _ **(End of Flashback)**_

Hotch closed the journal and stuck it back in his middle desk drawer. He figured he could finish reading it in one more day. So he finally had the truth about Andrew Carter and why Garcia could find nothing on him. Sergeant Carter and Lieutenant Carter were one and the same. Individually, Sergeant Carter did not exist.

Thinking back several days, Hotch recalled that JJ had been right when she hinted that Sergeant Carter and Lieutenant Carter might be the same person. And while they had witnessed similar things in the course of their own work, he had found himself secretly hoping this wasn't the case, only to discover it had been exactly that.

He knew he had to let Rossi know what he had found out and then inform the others, but not at the same time. The rest of the team could wait until later if not tomorrow, when he hopefully had finished reading the remainder of the journal. But Rossi he would tell right away. After that, he would have to wait six months for the final answers to any further questions.

With a sigh, he picked up the telephone receiver and pressed two digits of an extension, and waited for an answer which didn't take long.

"I need to see you in my office right now," Hotch said then hung up the receiver. He leaned back in his chair and waited, hands clasped in his lap, eyes glued on the open doorway. He only had to wait nearly two minutes before Rossi appeared in the doorway and stared at his boss.

"You sounded like it was something serious," he said eyeballing Hotch.

"It's not serious, but I did find the answer to a question we've had for several days," Hotch replied looking up at the older man.

"Oh?" Rossi walked into the office and sat down in one of the two chairs. He crossed his legs and with elbows resting on the arms of the chair, pyramiding his fingertips in front of him. "Care to relate what this answer might be?"

"Yes. Remember when Garcia was looking up the men in the photo and she had trouble finding anything on a Sergeant Andrew Carter?"

"Yeah. She could only find a Lieutenant Andrew Carter. Does your grandfather's journal address that question?"

"It does. In fact, I just read a section that answered that question."

Rossi smirked. "Let me guess. Sergeant Carter and Lieutenant Carter are the same person."

Hotch smiled. "Give the man a cigar." He relayed everything from Carter's first visit to Stalag 13, to how he ended up a regular there before his grandfather arrived.

"Well…" The elder agent said with a blank face. "That's about the only thing you don't have to wait six months to find out."

"True," Hotch agreed. He pushed his chair away from the desk and started to get to his feet. "You ready to go home, or do you have plans?"

Rossi sensed his friend didn't want to go straight home. "I'm in no hurry to go home either. Why? You wanna get something to eat?"

Hotch leaned over and grabbed his briefcase from the floor, and sat it on top of his desk. He then reached for his middle desk drawer. "I just don't feel like going home right now, and thought we could enjoy a nice dinner while you tell me about Hogan's grandson and how you two became friends. Just because I can't meet with him for six months doesn't mean I can't hear about him."

"So true," Rossi added as he got to his feet. "Listen, give me about five minutes to gather my stuff and I'll meet you by the elevator."

"Sure thing."

Once Rossi had left, Hotch opened his middle desk drawer and removed the journal. He tossed it inside his briefcase and locked it, then turned off the overhead lights before closing the door and locking it. He walked down the steps of the catwalk and to the elevator where he waited for Rossi.

* * *

(1) The story of how Carter came to be at Stalag 13 was partly based on the pilot episode, THE INFORMER, Season 1. I also made up a few things to enhance Carter's backstory that were not in the episode.


	52. Chapter 52

****One chapter left.****

 **Chapter 52**

Hotch sighed as he dropped his keys into the dish on the table beside the front door. After a pleasant dinner with Rossi, and learning a few things on the grandson of the late Colonel Hogan, he believed he became closer to the officer. In fact, it might be difficult to wait the necessary six months to meet with the man, but he'd find a way to manage.

He closed and locked the front door before he set the alarm for the night. Afterward, he headed across the floor and up the stairs. When he reached the top floor, he paused when he came to the closed door of Jack's bedroom. He cracked the door open, and took a peek inside the empty room. Despite its dark interior, it was only thanks to the ceiling light in the hallway that he at least saw his son's bed. He imagined Jack tucked under the blankets fast asleep with the nightlight on his bed-table giving off a faint glow inside his bedroom. Hotch allowed a small smile appear on his face at the imagined scene.

But reality struck him flush in the face suddenly. Now seeing the empty bed only served to remind him how much his son's absence affected him. He let out another sigh, quietly closed the door, entered his own bedroom, and closed that door behind him.

He placed his briefcase on the bed, opened it, and removed the journal. After putting it on the night table, he re-locked the briefcase and sat it on the floor beside his dresser. He gathered a pair of clean undergarments, a pair of pajamas, and walked into his bathroom to take a shower before bed.

As the hot water ran over his tired body, Hotch made quick work of the shower, shampooing his hair, and toweling himself dry. He hurriedly dressed in his clean undergarments and pajamas, reentered his bedroom, and turned off the overhead light. Once he climbed into the bed, he arranged the pillows behind his head before grabbing the journal and turning on the lamp on his night table. He flipped through the remaining pages to find there were ten more pages before he reached the end of the journal. He flipped to where he left off earlier, and began to read.

 _ **(Stalag 13 – A Week Later):**_

Things were quiet at Stalag 13 the past few days, and the men of barracks two were happy. But with three of his men recovering from serious injuries, Hogan sensed they needed more time. So he radioed London and asked for more time off, and London granted them a week. So with assignments being given to the underground instead, Hogan's men used the chance to rest up from their latest close escape and heal from their injuries.

Newkirk and LeBeau, despite their bruises being barely visible, healed sufficiently enough and now were able to carry out easy or simple assignments within the camp itself. But Hogan steadfast refused to permit them to take part in work details assigned by the Kommandant.

Kinch's shoulder had almost completely healed, but there was still a little lingering stiffness. But for the most part, he was almost at full capacity. Hogan also limited his radioman's activities in the camp so as not to arouse suspicion by the Germans. Fortunately for everyone involved, that was not difficult with the guards or Klink.

And lastly, Hotchner who had been the worst injured, was almost completely healed except for the faint bruises still present on his face and involving his injured eye. But the eye itself was healing nicely. Doctor Prust had made at one more visit to the Stalag, but came through the tunnel as he couldn't justify a return to the camp through the front gate. He was extremely pleased to announce to Hogan that Hotchner's eye would be fully functional and the sergeant would suffer no aftereffects.

Prust had also informed the prisoners that Fuchs had gone home a few days ago as he had fully recovered.

Hogan was not only relieved by the news about his own men and Fuchs, but grateful that things would soon be back to normal. In fact, that was when he had decided to ask London for another week's vacation and did exactly that after the doctor left.

 _ **(Later the Same Evening):**_

In the tunnel, Kinch was seated at the radio wearing his headset, monitoring all incoming calls. Newkirk, LeBeau, and Carter were keeping him company as things were slow. The men were telling the radioman all about their narrow and dangerous escape from Gestapo headquarters when Hogan, followed by Hotchner, walked into the radio room.

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Hogan, not letting on he had heard a bit of the conversation.

"We were just telling Kinch about the escape from Gestapo headquarters, Mon Colonel," explained LeBeau, smiling. "We didn't want him to miss out on anything that happened after he'd been shot."

Hogan looked at the trio with doubt in his eyes, but kept his opinion to himself for now. "Just make sure you don't embellish the truth, okay?"

"Now why would we do that, Gov'nor?" asked Newkirk sheepishly.

"Because I know how you two are with storytelling," Hotchner said. "Carter I'm not so worried about you one bit. But I don't want to hear anything from you two about anybody riding in on a white horse to save the day. Just stick to the facts."

"Is anybody home?" a voice said as it got closer causing the men to cease talking and stare straight ahead as a familiar sight came into view. Smiles broke out all around on everybody's faces except Hotchner's when Fritz Fuchs, dressed all in black and carrying a briefcase, walked into the radio room with a smile on his own face. He sat his briefcase on the edge of the radio table.

Hogan was the first to step forward and stretch out his hand. His smile widened as the German shook it firmly. "Fritz, glad to see you on your feet again. How are you?" The others gathered around the German except for Hotchner who stood off to the side and Kinch who remained seated at the radio.

"Gut," the German replied. He glanced at Kinch. "How are you, Sergeant Kinchloe? Have you recovered from being shot?"

"I'm fine," Kinch replied with a lazy grin. "The shoulder's a tad stiff, but getting better every day."

"Glad to hear it," the officer replied. Then his eyes fell on Hotchner and their eyes met briefly, but neither man spoke to the other. Finally, it was the German who spoke first. "Sergeant Hotchner, I am glad to see you are recovering. How is your eye? I hope you will suffer no aftereffects from your attack?"

Hotchner let out a deep breath. "I feel good, captain. Doctor Prust says my eye will be just fine. Thanks for asking."

Fuchs smiled. He sensed the man wanted to say something to him but wasn't sure where or how to begin. For now however, Fuchs would give him a few minutes.

Hogan patted the briefcase. "What's in the briefcase?"

Fuchs unlatched the briefcase, reached inside, and pulled out a bottle of Scotch. He handed it to Hogan who looked up at his friend as he accepted the gift.

"Not that I'm not appreciative, but I'm afraid I don't understand," he said.

The German chuckled. "It's a bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch. Consider it a gift from the major."

Hogan smiled with delight at the bottle in his hands. "Now why would your boss give us a bottle of his best Scotch?"

The German officer smirked. "Because he doesn't know it's missing from his supply."

Hogan and the others chuckled at the thought of the major giving them a bottle of his best liquor for a job well done. He glanced at his men.

"LeBeau, go fetch several tin cups. I say we deserve a toast to our good fortune."

"Oui, Colonel."

But before the Frenchman could move, Fuchs again opened his briefcase and this time removed a box wrapped with string and handed it to the American officer as well. Hogan first stared at the box, and then at Fuchs, confused.

"Whenever I get injured or in danger, Lilly worries and goes on a baking frenzy. This time she made several dozen chocolate chip, peanut butter, and oatmeal cookies. And as we have more that we need and David doesn't yet have any teeth, I thought you and your men might enjoy some."

Carter's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas Day. "Oh boy! Cookies and Scotch!"

Everybody, including Fuchs, stared at Carter in disbelief at hearing his exclamation. Aware that everybody's eyes were on him, the young sergeant looked around at his friends with surprise. "What?" he asked not understanding.

LeBeau shook his head. "Nothing, mon ami," he said, then looked at Hogan. "I will get the cups, Colonel." He hastily left the area. While they waited for him to return, Hogan studied his friend.

"What's happening with the investigation, my friend?" he asked worriedly.

"Gut news, Rob," Fuchs replied as LeBeau returned with seven tin cups and placed them side-by-side on the radio table.

"Tell me," Hogan replied as he opened the bottle and began to pour a little Scotch into each cup while Carter undid the string on the box.

As Hogan handed each man a cup, Fuchs explained to them the final outcome of the investigation into what happened at Gestapo headquarters, and what Hochstetter had told Berlin in his written report. Kinch's eyes narrowed as he listened and glanced at the Colonel.

"Hey, Colonel, that sounds almost like the story you told the major while in Klink's office that day."

"Does it?" Hogan teased as he sipped his Scotch. "I hadn't realized it."

"So it's really over, mate?" Newkirk asked the German.

"Ja. It is finally over and we all can relax for a while." Bluebird's eyes shifted to Hotchner. It was time to clear the air. "I gather you want to tell me something, Sergeant Hotchner."

Hotchner took a drink from his cup mainly to gather his nerve. He looked at Fuchs. "Can we talk alone, captain?"

Not waiting for Fuchs to respond, Hogan intervened. "Kinch, Newkirk, Carter, LeBeau, let's give Hotchner and Bluebird a bit of privacy for a few minutes." He then glanced at Hotchner. "We'll be nearby when you're done." The officer sensed what was about to happen and was proud of Hotchner for taking the initiative. The four men followed Hogan out of the radio room and to another branch of the tunnel where there would be privacy for the duo, but they could still overhear what was being said between the two men just in case.

* * *

Fuchs sat his cup atop his briefcase and clasped his hands behind his back. His blue eyes stared at the nervous-looking sergeant.

"We are alone now," Fuchs observed. "Say whatever you need to tell me. I promise I will listen and not judge you for your words."

"Thank you," Hotchner began. "Captain, since Newkirk, LeBeau and I were rescued, I have done nothing except go over again and again in my mind what happened in Gestapo headquarters. Also, I have been told how if it hadn't been for what you did, things might have ended badly for us as well as for yourself. And…and while it's gonna take a little time to get used to having someone who works with the Gestapo as an ally, I can promise you when I say I am willing to cut you some slack instead of treating you as an enemy."

Fuchs didn't answer right away. Instead, he mulled over what the man had just said to him. "Danke, sergeant. I hope I don't make you angry by asking this, but what made you change your mind about me in the end?"

Hotchner let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It was pointed out to me that you have just as much if not more to lose than we do. And any man who despite that added risk, can still do what you did for us and the underground, can't be a bad guy in my book." Hotchner stretched out his hand wearing a smile, and Fuchs grabbed it and the two men shook hands.

As they did so, Hogan and the others came back into the radio room, all wearing smiles.

"I'm glad to see you two have made peace with each other," Hogan said observing the two men. He raised his cup and smiled. "I'd say these peace talks and us being safe and sound calls for a drink. How about it, guys? Fritz?"

"I think you're right, Gov'nor," Newkirk agreed. He and the other men, including Fuchs, raised their cups, and were about to clink them together when a voice interrupted the procedure.

"Wait!" Carter ordered.

"What now?" asked Newkirk with a roll of his eyes.

"We forgot the cookies!"

"Mon Dieu!" uttered LeBeau, exasperated.

"C'mon, Carter," said Kinch.

"That's bloody marvelous, Andrew," added Newkirk sarcastically. "Interruptin' the Gov'nor's toast for cookies. No offense, captain," he added with a glimpse at Fuchs.

"It's okay. No harm done," Hogan said as he took a cookie from the box Carter was holding to make sure each man got one. When they all had one, he then offered the box to the German.

"Captain?"

"Nein, sergeant," Fuchs declined. "I have eaten enough cookies during the week I was at home after being discharged from the hospital. As I told you before, Lilly baked them like crazy while I was in the hospital, so I had plenty waiting for me."

"Sorry," Carter apologized sitting the box back on the table, then took one himself. "Go ahead with your toast, Colonel," he added looking at Hogan.

"Thank you, Carter," Hogan began again. "As I said before, making peace between Bluebird and Hotchner is great. And us being alive and back here is also great. Therefore, I say both things deserve a toast. Here's to happy endings."

The men all raised their cups and clinked them together in celebration to a happy ending for one and all.

 _ **(The End – 1944)**_

With a sigh of regret having reached the end of the journal, Hotch closed the book and sat it on his night table. He couldn't believe after all this time he had finally finished reading it.

He was glad to read that his grandfather had made his peace in the end with the Gestapo captain. Even he himself thought of Fuchs as one of the good guys, but could understand his grandfather's hesitation at accepting him. And although it took his grandfather a bit longer to realize this fact, he was glad he finally did in the end.

Reaching out, he switched off the lamp and slid down into the bed. Pulling the covers up to just under his chin, he felt he had a lot to think about not only tonight, but before he went into the office the next day. He also needed to figure out what he would tell the others in the morning when he met with them, because they all deserved to know everything he had found out tonight having been on what he considered an incredible journey with him.

A tired smile appeared as his eyelids began to droop. And just as sleep began to take over, one last thought came to him.

He wished his grandfather was alive so he could tell him how proud he was of him for everything.


	53. Chapter 53

**Here it is...the final chapter. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 53**

The following morning, Aaron Hotchner, as usual, was the first one to arrive at the BAU. In a way he was grateful nobody else was around as he needed more time. More time to think as how best to explain what he had uncovered last night to the others. While he walked up the steps to the catwalk and inside his corner office, he turned on the overhead lights and left the door open. He rested his briefcase on the floor beneath his desk, and sat in his chair when he heard the 'ding' of the elevator. He looked up having an idea who was arriving, and wasn't the least bit surprised when he saw Rossi exit the elevator. A smile graced his lips as he reached for the top file folder sitting in his 'in' box and lay it open in front of him.

Rossi, trudging up the steps, smirked the moment he spotted his best friend in his office seated behind his desk, staring at him with a devious grin on his face. He stood in the doorway of Hotch's office, leaning against the door-frame. He had one leg crossing the other above the ankle with his briefcase in one hand and the other stuffed in his pants pocket.

"I figured you'd be the first one in," Rossi said with a grin. "Did you have a good night? Read something of interest?"

The Unit Chief looked up at the older man and leaned back in his chair, case file forgotten momentarily. "Matter of fact I did. I finished the journal last night and uncovered a couple of interesting things including the answer to Andrew Carter's true rank."

The senior agent's eyebrows arched with interest. "Care to share this knowledge?"

The younger man sighed. "I want to wait until the others arrive and have everybody meet in the conference room. I want to go over everything one time and not have to repeat myself."

"Makes sense." Rossi looked at his watch. "Well, the others should be straggling in soon so I shouldn't have long to wait. I'll head to my office and await your call for the meeting." He straightened and headed to his own office leaving Hotch alone with his thoughts and files.

* * *

It was forty-five minutes later before the rest of the team arrived. When he saw them, Hotch promptly left his office and walked out onto the catwalk. Midway of the catwalk, he leaned against the railing gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white as he stared below at the others. It was time the Unit Chief decided. He noticed the others look up at him from their desks and that JJ and Garcia were visiting Morgan and Prentiss.

"Conference room, everybody," Hotch said as he turned and headed for the conference room himself not waiting for a response. Once he entered the conference room, he took a seat at the head of the table to wait. He watched the others walked in and take their seats; Garcia in her usual place beside Morgan, and Reid on the opposite side of the table beside Prentiss. JJ beside Rossi who sat beside Hotch. The Unit Chief, looking around the table, clasped his hands atop the table and waited for everybody to settle in their seats before he began.

Right away he noticed his technical analyst looking worried and arched his eyebrows.

"Garcia?" he asked quizzically.

"Sir, did we…or did I do something wrong?" the tech analyst asked.

"What makes you think that?" he asked.

She bit her lower lip. "Well…to be honest, Mon Capitan, you never call a meeting first thing in the morning unless somebody did something wrong. So naturally I thought…"

The corners of Hotch's mouth curled upward showing his dimples. "You and the others can relax, nobody did anything wrong. I promise. I called this meeting because I finished the journal last night. I also discovered a few things, including the truth about Sergeant Carter and why, Garcia, you couldn't find anything on him."

Garcia's lower jaw dropped and her mouth formed a perfect 'O' in surprise as she stared at her boss.

"Sir? I don't understand. I swear I tried everything possible to find Sergeant Carter. I even tried looking in places I shouldn't and…" She was becoming agitated.

Hotch held up his hand stopping her tirade. "Stop. I know you did your usual excellent job. But the reason you couldn't find anything on Sergeant Carter…" he glanced quickly at his media liaison then back at Garcia. "…and JJ was right when she referred to it weeks ago."

Garcia and JJ both appeared confused and waited for the Unit Chief to continue.

"JJ suggested that it might be possible that Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Carter were one and the same. And she was right. Sergeant Carter never existed which is why you couldn't find anything on him."

While JJ looked justified, Garcia still appeared confused. "Sir, I'm not quite sure I understand what you're saying. Are you telling me there is no Sergeant Carter?"

"That's exactly what he's telling you, kitten," Rossi said causing the tech analyst to look from Hotch to him. He had suspected this to be the case, but didn't want to say anything in case he was wrong. "For some reason, Lieutenant Carter either needed or wanted to stay at Stalag 13 but couldn't because Hogan was the only American officer allowed. Therefore, and Aaron can clarify this I believe, the only way he could remain at Stalag 13 was to become a noncom. So Lieutenant Carter became Sergeant Carter. Care to elaborate, Aaron?" Rossi looked at the Unit Chief.

"Dave's partially right, Penelope," Hotch explained. "Lieutenant Carter escaped from a camp for officers and came to Stalag 13 for help returning to London. But while he was there, he learned about Hogan's underground operation and wanted to help them. But being an officer, he wouldn't be allowed to stay there. So they sent him on the escape route to London, but instead of following it, he came back to Stalag 13. So my guess is after that Hogan made arrangements with London for him to stay, created a backstory for him as a sergeant, and got him captured by the guards and assigned to his barracks as Sergeant Andrew Carter."

"But why would they want Carter to stay, Hotch?" asked Emily. "He must have served some purpose that they needed or wanted for them to go through all that trouble."

"He did," Hotch explained. "He knew about chemistry and explosives, and London wanted Hogan's men to branch out into sabotage so they wouldn't have to keep giving the sabotage assignments to the underground."

"So Carter became Hogan's demolitions expert in a manner of speaking," Morgan added, understanding.

"That's correct," the Unit Chief said.

"That must have been rough keeping Carter's true rank secret from the Germans as well as the other prisoners," Morgan said.

"It was at first," Hotch explained. "But it got easier as time went on, and a matter of life-or-death which I guess is why only the prisoners in barracks two knew the truth. They couldn't risk the Germans knowing the truth."

Garcia whistled and feigned wiping her brow. "I'm glad that solves that mystery," she said. "I thought for a minute I was losing my touch."

Morgan looked at the tech analyst with his dazzling smile. "Perish the thought, Baby Girl," he said. "Nobody is better than my Sweetness."

Smiling in return at the bald agent, she gently patted his cheek with her fingertips. "You are my hero. I can always count on you, my love."

JJ smirked at Garcia. "Did you ever doubt it?" she asked. "Morgan's slightly prejudice where you're concerned, or didn't you know that?"

Throughout everything, Spencer Reid had been quiet. He had been staring directly at his Unit Chief the entire time.

"Hotch, you said there were a few things you found out last night," he said. "Can you tell us what those were?"

The Unit Chief sighed. "My grandfather made his peace with Captain Fuchs in the end."

"Really?" asked Reid with wide eyes. "How come he changed his mind?"

"He discovered that Fuchs had more to lose than anybody else like his wife and infant son," Hotch explained. "He also understood that if it hadn't been for the German officer doing his part in Hogan's rescue plan and with Hochstetter, they all would have ended up in front of a firing squad."

"Was there anything else?" asked Reid.

"Yes. Hochstetter came back to Stalag 13 a second time concerning the same thing, and Hogan spun a cover story." He repeated the story Hogan had told Klink and Hochstetter while in Klink's office.

"And Hochstetter believed him?" asked JJ.

"Apparently so," Hotch exclaimed. "Fuchs came out to Stalag 13 a week after he got out of the hospital, and told Hogan and his men that his boss sent a report to Berlin outlining the same information that Hogan had told him and Klink while in Klink's office with a few variations."

Rossi chuckled. "Seems like Hogan managed to fool the Gestapo when he needed to."

"Yeah," said Reid. "But I bet it wasn't as easy as fooling the Kommandant," he added.

The Unit Chief smirked. "I agree. Something tells me my son, Jack, although only five years-old, could fool Klink."

"C'mon, Hotch," Morgan chuckled. "Nobody can be that stupid or dense, and don't forget Klink was a Colonel. I mean…he must have had some intelligence to make colonel."

Emily smirked. "That or he must have known somebody who pulled some strings."

Snickers were heard from the group including from Hotch. After a few minutes, everybody quieted down so the Unit Chief could continue.

"Emily, JJ, I'm sorry that you didn't get to help much, but please know that even the small contribution you both made did help solve this mystery. So don't feel that simply making out those lists of the heroes' survivors wasn't important."

Prentiss and JJ exchanged looks before both women studied their boss.

"Thank you for saying that, Hotch," Emily said. "Because, and I'm sure I speak for JJ as well, that we both felt we didn't really do anything to help you."

"In fact…" Hotch continued. "I want to thank all of you, especially Dave, for your contributions in helping me find out as much as I have. And I do still have more questions…" His eyes fell on Rossi. "…but I'm afraid I'll have to wait six more months before I can get those answers."

"Can you wait that long, Hotch?" asked Morgan quietly.

"I really don't have much choice in the matter. It's the way it has to be. But at least I'll have someone to go to when the time comes for the answers I need."

"But are you certain he can give you those answers?" asked Reid. "I mean, after all this time, it would be a shame to find out he can't help and you end up back where you started."

Hotch let out a deep breath and studied the young genius. "That's a chance I have to take," he said. "But somehow I think Colonel Hogan's grandson can supply the answers. Rossi has promised to introduce me to Bobby Hogan when the time comes as that was a request of Bobby's, and I must adhere to it."

Rossi smiled at Reid. "Don't worry yourself, genius. Bobby Hogan will definitely have the answers to whatever questions Aaron may have. Of that I am sure."

Garcia looked at her boss. There were tears rolling down her cheeks despite her joyous smile. "Sir, I know right now you don't have all the answers you seek, but let me say that I am…that _we_ are so happy for you right now."

Hotch smiled. "Thank you, Garcia."

"You're welcome, my liege."

Hotch smiled as he studied the people seated around the table. His team, his close friends, his family. These people had helped him get to this point. And along the way, they had helped him find some of the answers and gain insight into the people his grandfather was involved with during the war. Answers to questions he didn't even know existed to begin with much less needed to be asked. If anything, he promised himself he would share what he found out from Bobby Hogan when the two men met face-to-face in the months ahead.

Until then, all he and anybody could do is wait. Again he looked at the others who stared at him, waiting for future instructions.

"That's all right now, everybody," The Unit Chief said. "Let's get back to work. These case file reports won't write themselves." That said, he started to his feet as did the others as they followed his lead.

* * *

The day had dragged on for what seemed like an eternity, and Hotch was able to leave the office at a reasonable hour and return home. He was exhausted and glad for once he didn't have to research anything concerning the journal, nor read any more of it. Right now, all he wanted to do was have a drink to settle his nerves and relax.

After he tossed his keys into the dish near the front door, he walked to his liquor cabinet. Picking up the bottle of Scotch Rossi had given him for his birthday the year before, he poured some of the liquor into a Tumbler. Holding up the glass, he sipped the alcohol, and enjoyed the feel of it as it slid down his throat. Bringing the glass with him, he walked up the stairs and to his bedroom. He continued to sip the liquor as he sat down on the edge of his bed and looked around the bedroom until his eyes landed on one corner of the room. In that corner sat the box in which were the other nine journals. Sitting the glass on the corner of the night table, Hotch got up, approached the corner, picked up the box, carried it to his bed and sat it on the mattress.

He raised the lid of the box and stared at the remaining journals. Picking up the one on top, he looked at the cover on which had been printed: 'MORE FAIRYTALES OF A PAPA BEAR. Volume 2.' He sat back down beside the box, and stared at the journal. Opening it, he began to read the first page.

 **The End**


End file.
